AS  HAVING  NOTHING 


BY 
HESTER  CALDWELL  OAKLEY 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK  &  LONDON 
Gbe  Knickerbocker  press 


COPYRIGHT,  1898 

BY 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 


ttbc  ftnicherboclter  press,  Wew  Both 


To 
MY   FATHER 


1702004 


CONTENTS 


I — "THE   YEAR    S  AT  THE   SPRING       .           .  I 

II — THE   COMMON   PROBLEM         .           .  l8 

III — IDEALS          - 46 

IV — RECONNOITERING            .  }       .           .           .  59 

V — A   FALSE   START /2 

VI — IN   LIGHTEST   LENOX     ....  92 

VII— IN   DARKEST   NEW   YORK        .  .  .         .126 

VIII — TEMPORARY   ALLIES       .           .           .           .  147 

IX — AN   IMPROMPTU    ROOF-GARDEN      .           .  l66 

X — BELLIGERENCY IQ7 

XI — A   DESERTION 223 

XII — TRUCE  .           .           .           .           .           .           .  244 

XIII — REALITIES      ......  259 

XIV — VOLUNTARY   EXILE         .           .           ...  2/2 

xv — "WANTING  is — WHAT?"     .        .        .  293 

XVI — "AS   HAVING   NOTHING — YET   POSSESS- 
ING ALL  THINGS!"       .        .        .315 


"/  shall  be  satisfied 
If  only  the  dreams  abide." 


AS  HAVING   NOTHING 


CHAPTER     I 

THE  YEAR'S  AT  THE  SPRING! 

Here  's  to  the  joy  of  a  first  success 

Paltry  and  poor  tho'  it  be  ! 
The  throb  of  the  fresh  young  heart,  elate  ! 

'T  will  never  return  to  thee. 

Triumphs  in  plenty  and  honors  piled, 

To  the  satiate  laurel-crowned, 
But — the  thrill  of  a  nameless,  first  success 

To  the  heart  still  unrenowned  ! 

BOSTON,  MASS.,  April  2Oth. 
Miss  ELIZABETH  WALLACE, 

"The  Velasquez,"  55th  Street,  New  York 

City. 

Dear  Miss  Wallace: — We  beg  to  acknow- 
ledge receipt  of  the  three    drawings  for  An 


2  As  Having  Nothing 

Idyll  of  the  Queen,  which  are  more  than  satis- 
factory, and  for  which  we  enclose  our  check 
for  one  hundred  dollars  ($100). 

We  are  sending  you,  this  morning,  per  reg- 
istered mail,  a  manuscript  entitled  The  Will 
of  the  Wisp,  by  Calvert  Dodge,  for  which  we 
would  like  twelve  full-page  illustrations,  to  be 
reduced  to  three  and  one-half  by  five  inches, 
at  your  earliest  convenience,  and  your  own 
terms. 

If  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  undertake  the 
work,  kindly  let  us  know  at  once,  and  oblige, 

Yours  very  truly, 
LINTON,  WEST,  &  Co.,  Publishers. 

On  opening  the  lock-box  at  her  studio  door, 
Elizabeth  Wallace  had  recognized  the  business 
heading  of  the  envelope  and  torn  it  open  with 
an  impatient  finger,  which  she  was  apt  to  use 
instead  of  the  extremely  ready  little  paper- 
cutter  hanging  at  her  waist.  Her  unreliable 
imagination  divined  some  complaint  of  the 
drawings  which  she  had  mailed  to  that  address 


The  Year 's  at  the  Spring  !          3 

the  week  before,  and  foresaw  further  madden- 
ing delay  in  a  much-needed  remittance,  which 
was,  in  fact,  already  far  spent  in  advance. 

While  she  stood  waiting  for  the  elevator, 
which  partook  of  the  dilatory  nature  of  the 
ease-loving  colored  boy  who  operated  it,  she 
had  read,  marked,  and  learned  every  word  of 
the  cordial  enclosure  ;  and  now,  with  the  letter 
tucked  under  her  belt,  where  its  crisp  rustle 
as  she  moved  suggested  pleasurably  a  promise 
of  brave  bank  notes  to  come,  she  turned  into 
the  Park  at  Fifty- Ninth  Street,  and  walked 
briskly  along,  occupied  in  inwardly  digesting 
the  good  news  which  meant  numberless  little 
indulgences  for  two  appreciative  people,  as 
well  as  their  daily  bread. 

It  was  all  that  she  could  do  to  keep  her  feet 
dignified,  for  little  ripples  of  joy  which  had 
their  well-spring  in  her  heart  went  rollicking 
through  her  veins  until  every  nerve  danced  in 
sympathy  and  her  muscles  ached  to  do  the 
same.  The  childish  disproportion  of  her  ela- 
tion to  its  cause,  which  was  only  a  natural. 


4  As  Having  Nothing 

well-earned  outcome  of  previous  labor,  tickled 
her  sense  of  humor ;  and  as  she  moved  on, 
with  that  long,  free  step,  peculiar  to  tall,  un- 
conscious, perfectly  developed  womanhood, 
she  remonstrated  with  herself  in  happy 
scorn. 

"  A  pretty  sight  for  the  staid  old  Knicker- 
bockers you  would  be,  Elizabeth  Wallace, 
turned  of  twenty-three,  if  you  went  prancing 
through  Central  Park  as  you  want  to.  I  am 
ashamed  of  you  !  Where  is  the  poise  you  have 
been  complimented  upon  so  often,  you  hypo- 
critical fraud  ?  Is  this  the  calm,  I  Ve-been-ex- 
pecting-you  fashion  in  which  you  planned  to 
greet  Success  when  she  appeared  ?  Have  n't 
you  known  all  along  that  you  would  meet  her 
face  to  face,  some  morning  ?  And  did  n't  you 
say  to  yourself,  when  those  other  three  draw- 
ings went  off,  that  they  were  good,  good, 
GOOD,  and  would  lead  to  something  better  ? 

"  Only  illustrating,  too  !  Any  one  would 
think  from  the  way  your  heart  leaps  that  this 
was  a  triumph  of  the  first  water.  Why  it 


The  Year 's  at  the  Spring  !          5 

could  not  beat  more  joyfully  if  you  had  been 
given  a  Fellowship  at  the  Champ-de-Mars  for 
one  of  the  inspired  pictures  which  you  mean 
to  paint  some  day.  Do  you  mean  to  paint 
them  though,  or  does  this  mean  that  advertis- 
ing has  lowered  your  ideals,  and  that  you  have 
grown  short-sighted  enough  to  think  that 
profitable  illustrating  is  the  summum  bonumf 
Looked  at  with  your  old,  clear  mind's  eyes,  this 
is  no  triumph  at  all — not  even  a  paltry  one. 
It  is  nothing  more  than  you  deserve,  you  head- 
working,  poverty-stricken,  ambitious  creature ! 
And  why  you  should  feel  as  if  you  were  living 
in  a  fairy-tale  and  your  godmother  had  just 
touched  the  pumpkin,  I  don't  know, — unless 
the  spring  has  gone  to  your  head." 

She  had  chosen  the  most  unfrequented  paths 
— paths  every  step  of  which  held  a  lovable  inti- 
macy ;  for  these  daily  walks  of  hers  had  been 
the  real  thinking,  feeling  times  of  her  life  of  late. 
While  at  work,  she  grew  absorbed  with  a  close 
concentration  that  shut  out  all  thought  except 
that  connected  with  her  pencil  and  brush  ;  and 


6  As  Having  Nothing 

at  home,  the  constant,  loving  demand  which 
her  mother  made  upon  her  again  shut  out  more 
personal  reveries,  which  needed  solitude  to  for- 
mulate themselves.  At  the  studio  she  lav- 
ished upon  her  work,  and  at  home,  upon  her 
mother,  a  single-hearted  devotion  which  ad- 
mitted of  no  self-analysis  whatever.  Perhaps 
it  was  just  as  well ;  but  at  all  events,  she  had 
taken  the  trees,  the  rocks,  the  open  sky,  the 
tame  little  mendicant  squirrels  and  birds  into 
her  confidence,  into  communion  with  her  often 
unrealized  moods,  with  an  unconscious  self- 
abandon  which  she  had  given  to  no  human  be- 
ing since  her  father  had  died,  three  years 
before. 

To-day  was  a  day  to  make  the  heart  sing 
for  pure  joy  of  living — all  sordid,  monetary 
conditions  of  life  aside.  The  miracle  of 
awakening  warmth,  and  its  gradual  revealing 
of  Nature's  great,  glad  soul,  was  going  on  all 
about  her  with  that  mystery  of  development 
that  one  feels  so  keenly  in  early  April,  when 
the  branches  are  bare — no,  they  are  not ! — yes, 


The  Year 's  at  the  Spring  !          7 

they  are  ! — and  one  brushes  a  hand  across  the 
eyes  to  discover  if  the  soft  film  that  is  born  of 
still  invisible  foliage  is  not  the  fault  of  the  eyes 
themselves.  In  a  few  days  the  blossoms  would 
come,  pushing  out  eagerly  and  trustfully  ahead 
of  the  more  cautious  leaves.  And  then  the 
trees  would  be  great,  soft,  bridal  bouquets  for 
the  musical,  mating  birds  to  nest  in. 

Elizabeth  drank  it  all  in,  the  beauty  that 
was,  and  the  pledge  of  beauty  to  be.  Her 
dark  head  was  held  high,  with  the  resolute, 
independent  chin  raised,  but  the  long,  hazel 
eyes,  in  which  the  April  sunlight  seemed  not 
so  much  mirrored  as  caught,  looked  dancing- 
ly  across  the  green  expanse  and  saluted  the 
reservoir  tower  which  reared  its  picturesque 
crest  to  the  right.  "  Castle  in  Spain,  you 
seem  closer  to-day,"  she  whispered  happily,  as 
she  left  the  Park. 

A  few  minutes  later  she  had  let  herself  into 
the  tiny,  West-Side  apartment,  and  swooped 
down  with  long  pent-up  exuberance  upon  a 
little,  elderly  woman,  who  was  sewing  at  a 


8  As  Having  Nothing 

north  window,  from  which,  through  the  vista 
formed  by  neighboring  apartment  houses,  a 
refreshing  glimpse  of  the  Park  was  visible. 

"  Which  would  you  rather  have,  Mother- 
love, — a  diamond  tiara,  or  a  pearl  carriage  ? " 
she  demanded,  with  hysterical  appreciation  of 
the  consternation  in  the  little  woman's  face. 
"  Which  would  you  rather  have, — a  famous 
daughter  whose  chefs-d'ceuvres  decorated  horse- 
cars  and  the  backs  of  magazines,  or  a  child 
whose  pictures  were  shut  up  unobtrusively  be- 
tween genteel  book-covers  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Elizabeth,  dear  ? 
You  're  tired  and  nervous.  Lie  down  for  a  lit- 
tle while.  It  is  all  the  result  of  your  disagree- 
able interview  with  that  advertising  man.  I 
am  sure  nothing  could  be  prettier  or  more 
suitable  than  your  soap  poster." 

"  Oh,  Mother  dear !  don't  look  so  worried 
or  you  '11  upset  my  centre  of  gravity  completely. 
You  are  so  funny  when  you  get  excited.  I  'm 
not  the  least  bit  daft  or  nervous  either.  I  'm 
simply — high-spirited  and  successful,  Allow 


The  Year 's  at  the  Spring  !          9 

me  to  present  to  you  the  renowned  illustrator 
of  that  clever  new  book,  The  Will  of  the  Wisp, 
published  by  Linton,  West,  Co.,  $1.50  per 
volume." 

Then  with  a  sudden  change  and  a  swift  re- 
turn to  the  sweet  gravity  which  her  pure  brow 
and  resolute  chin  promised,  the  mocking  sprite 
fled  from  her  eyes  and  laughing  mouth ;  and 
in  a  minute  the  whole  matter  was  explained, 
to  Mrs.  Wallace's  intense  delight  and  satisfac- 
tion. 

Elizabeth  sat  down  on  the  floor  by  her 
mother's  side,  and  drew  the  work  softly  from 
the  delicate,  ringed  fingers,  saying,  while  she 
kissed  them  with  a  rare  and  playful  tenderness  : 
"Not  another  stitch,  Madre.  You  do  alto- 
gether too  much  for  this  untidy  artist  of  yours. 
This  dimity  goes  straight  to  Miss  Brian,  in  com- 
pany with  a  darling  black  and  white  lawn,  at 
the  extravagant  price  of  ten  cents  a  yard,  which 
I  have  set  my  heart  upon  seeing  you  appear 
in,  with  no  delay.  Let  her  make  them  up  in 
honor  of  the  occasion.  I  must  have  my  ex- 


io  As  Having  Nothing 

travagant  fling  after  each  check,  you  know, 
and  this  time  my  dissipation  shall  be  a  dress- 
maker's bill." 

"  But,  Elizabeth,  I  love  to  do  it.  I  feel  so 
useless  doing  nothing.  And  sewing  seems  to 
be  my  only  chance  of  making  money,  by  saving 
it,  since  my  talented  daughter  has  all  the  brains 
of  the  family." 

"  Nonsense  !  Brains  indeed  !  You  are  my  in- 
spiration, and  it  is  you,  and  you  alone,  who 
have  made  me  the  shining  light  I  am ;  you 
who  have  managed  and  toiled  and  spun  to 
keep  me,  not  only  presentable,  but  clothed 
with  the  '  purple  and  fine  linen '  that  give 
me  the  appearance  wherewith  to  impress  sus- 
ceptible publishers  and  advertisers, — even  if  it 
does  make  me  feel  like  an  impostor  at  times. 
Clothes  are  invaluable  !  Some  day  I  am  going 
to  write  an  essay  on  the  subject.  If  I  were  left 
to  myself  I  'd  be  as  artistic  a  rag-bag  as 
any  of  the  Quartier  freaks  in  the  Paris  studios, 
lose  my  self-respect,  and,  like  the  veriest  Bo- 
hemian, slave  over  my  ridiculously  ideal  con- 


The  Year 's  at  the  Spring  !         1 1 

ceptions,  instead  of  being  the  well-dressed 
Philistine  I  am  now,  with  style  and  poise 
enough  to  be  business-like  and  yet  artistic  ;  to 
indulge  in  a  few  mild  pomps  and  vanities  and 
not  cultivate  my  Bohemian  instincts  at  the  risk 
of  my  self-respect,  and  finally  to  keep  alive 
that  instinct  of  noblesse  oblige  which  rules  you 
with  such  an  iron  sceptre,  dear." 

"  Oh,  Betty,  not  that !  But  I  do  think  you 
owe  it  to  your  father,  to  your  training,  and 
your  education,  not  to  mention  your  capabili- 
ties and  connections,  not  to  let  trouble  and 
poverty  make  you  careless." 

"  I  know  it,  Madre  mia,  but  I  owe  it  most 
of  all  to  you,  dear.  You  are  the  only  connec- 
tion I  care  the  least  bit  about.  The  rest  may 
go  to  Halifax,  for  all  of  me  !  Thank  Heaven, 
they  are  all  in  England,  and  too  far  away  to 
watch  and  criticize  the  goings-on  of  this  revo- 
lutionary daughter  of  a  noble  house.  As 
for  Father," — and  her  gay  voice  fell,  with  a 
swiftly  reverent  intonation, — "  Father  knows 
that  I  mean  right  whatever  I  do,  or  say,  or 


12  As  Having  Nothing 

seem.  I  have  no  more  confidence  in  God's 
understanding  my  motives,  than  in  Father's 
comprehension."  It  was  indicative  of  a  certain 
strain  of  indomitable  loyalty  in  the  girl's  na- 
ture that  Elizabeth  had  never  ceased  to  use  the 
present  tense  in  speaking  of  her  father,  whose 
life,  touched  by  death,  had  seemed  to  the  wife 
so  irreparably  ended,  except  as  an  indefinitely 
changed  existence  in  an  infinitely  removed  and 
hazy  heaven. 

"  Oh,  Elizabeth  ! "  pleaded  Mrs.  Wallace,  in 
the  reproachful  tone  with  which  she  met,  and 
strove  to  check  these  incomprehensible,  and 
therefore  seemingly  sacrilegious,  tendencies  of 
her  strange  daughter. 

The  girl  smiled.  "  Forgive  me,  dear.  But 
most  people's  idea  of  God  is  so  infinitely  below 
my  knowledge  of  Father ;  so  much  less  wise 
and  broad-minded  and  tender.  However,  that 
is  neither  here  nor  there.  What  people  think 
God  is,  does  not  make  Him  so,  except  for 
themselves." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  answered  Mrs.  Wai- 


The  Year  's  at  the  Spring  !         13 

lace,  with  a  puzzled  expression,  "  God  is  the 
same  for  every  one.  What  people  think  He  is 
has  nothing  to  do  with  it,  Elizabeth." 

"  This  world  is  inevitably  what  we  think  and 
make  it,"  mused  the  girl,  drawing  her  straight 
brows  together  ;  "  why  not  the  next  ?  I  believe 
we  all  get  what  we  expect.  Does  n't  this  prove 
it  ? "  with  a  quick  change  to  the  practical, 
which  was  an  evident  relief  to  Mrs.  Wallace, 
who  had  dreaded  Elizabeth's  speculative  moods 
since  she  was  a  mere  baby,  and  had  told  her  it 
was  "such  a  refreshment  to  be  naughty." 

"  I  am  sure  I  have  felt  myself  to  be  a  genius 
at  least  once  a  day  for  the  past  three  years — 
ever  since  I  first  put  my  Grecian  nose  down  to 
the  artistic  grindstone,  and  turned  it  into  the 
inadequate  apology  for  the  feature  it  now  is," 
rubbing  it  thoughtfully.  "  However,  they  say 
that  clever  women  almost  invariably  have  short 
noses, — Aman  Jean  used  to  say,  '  le  nez  est  le 
clef  de  la  t$te,  mademoiselle'  and  the  more  valu- 
able the  treasure,  the  more  insignificant  and 
small  the  key,  you  know, — so  in  time  you  may 


14  As  Having  Nothing 

expect  me  to  be  entirely  minus  that  interesting 
appendage,  if  I  keep  on  at  this  astonishing 
rate  of  progress.  Twelve  full-page  illustra- 
tions, at — let  me  see — my  own  terms.  Hum — 
um — fifty  dollars,  at  the  least,  apiece, — twelve 
full-page, — that's  six  hundred  dollars  at  the 
inside  calculation,  Mother  dear.  And  I  am 
positive  I  can  do  them  in  short  order,  I  'm  '  that 
smoothed  at  the  turn  things  are  taking,'  as 
nurse  used  to  say.  And,  meanwhile,  we  have 
this  hundred  to  splurge  with,"  and  she  waved 
the  bit  of  paper  blithely  over  her  head.  "  We 
can  soon  use  the  Southern  Railroads  to  buy 
you  bon-bons,  sweetest." 

The  proof-sheets  arrived  by  the  evening 
mail  and,  after  dinner,  Elizabeth  sat  down, 
and  proceeded  to  skim  through  the  pages,  pre- 
paratory to  formulating  her  ideas  for  composi- 
tion. She  had  not  read  far  before  she  uttered 
a  quick  exclamation  :  "  Mother,  it 's  the  oddest 
thing,  but  I  verily  believe  the  heroine  of  this 
story  is  going  to  be  the  exact  counterpart  of 
Joan  Whetmore.  Listen  to  this  : 


The  Year's  at  the  Spring  !        15 

" '  A  girl  whom  many  professed  to  know, 
and  whom  few,  if  any,  actually  did.  One 
whose  eyes  dreamed,  while  her  mouth  laughed  ; 
with  a  brow  like  a  nun's  hidden  under  a  frivo- 
lous film  of  curls  ;  with  a  complexion  of  the 
delicacy  and  pathos  of  a  little  child's  ;  a  chin 
like  a  cherub's,  a  head  as  wise  as  the  Sphinx, 
and  a  heart  like  an  unopened  flower.  Oh,  a 
bundle  of  contradictions  was  the  Wisp  !  ' 
Now,  is  n't  that  Joan  all  over  again  ?  I  am 
going  to  ask  her  to  pose  for  rne,  and,  like  the 
blessed  saint  she  is,  I  'm  sure  she  will  be  more 
than  glad  to  do  it." 

"  Of  course  she  will,  dear,"  answered  Mrs. 
Wallace,  loyally  ;  "  any  one  would  be  flattered, 
I  am  sure.  You  do  such  beautiful  things." 

"  Oh,  Mother,  you  delicious  old  lady  !  I 
believe  you  think  no  one  ever  possessed  a 
grain  of  talent  before  your  gifted  daughter 
appeared  upon  the  scene.  If  I  am  conceited, 
as  some  people  have  been  cruel  enough  to 
hint  at  times,  it 's  all  your  fault.  Take  care, 
or  you  will  stultify  me  completely.  Mr.  Lasar 


1 6  As  Having  Nothing 

used  to  say,  last  summer,  that  there  were  two 
sorts  of  families,  and  both  equally  deadly— 
the  kind  that  think  their  artistic  ugly  duck- 
lings are  all  swans,  and  the  kind  that  consider 
them  absolutely  devoid  of  sense,  and  give 
them  up  in  despair  because  they  don't  turn 
out  finished  chromos.  '  Work  it  out  alone, 
work  it  out  with  yourself  and  Nature,'  he  used 
to  say,  '  and  then,  in  a  few  years,  when  you  're 
famous,  they  '11  all  be  saying,  I  told  you  so.' ' 

"Elizabeth!"  came  the  mild  reproach, 
which  always  acted  like  a  warning  check-rein 
when  the  fun-loving  girl  gave  vent  to  a  bit  too 
frolicsome  a  humor.  "You  know  I  always  said 
so  from  the  very  first." 

Elizabeth  jumped  up,  and  crossing  the  little 
room  with  three  long  steps,  she  leaned  over 
and  pressed  a  tender  kiss  on  the  puzzled  face 
lifted  to  meet  it. 

"  Mother  dear,"  she  said,  with  a  throb  of 
protecting  love,  "  what  would  I  do  without 
you  to  spoil  me  ?  " 

"  You  are  so  like  your  father,  Betty,"  sighed 


The  Year's  at  the  Spring  !        17 

Mrs.  Wallace,  with  a  reminiscent  cadence  in 
her  voice ;  while  the  girl  settled  down  to  her 
reading  again,  and  soon  grew  absorbed,  her 
face  flushing  with  interest  as  she  proceeded. 
The  soft  breeze  blew  in  at  the  open  window, 
and  ruffled  her  dark  hair  to  a  shadowy  loose- 
ness. The  mother  leaned  back  in  her  chair 
and  watched  the  picture  lovingly.  How  deli- 
cate and  firm  and  heavily  lashed  Elizabeth's 
eyelids  were,  with  the  quick  glancing  life  flash- 
ing beneath,  as  she  absorbed  page  after  page 
with  a  quickness  of  perception  which  again 
reminded  Mrs.  Wallace  of  her  husband. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   COMMON    PROBLEM 

"  The  common  problem — yours,  mine,  every  one's — 
Is  not  to  fancy  what  were  fair  in  life, 
Provided  it  could  be  :  but  finding  first 
What  may  be,  then  find  how  to  make  it  fair 
Up  to  our  means — a  very  different  thing  !  " 

MR.  WALLACE  had  died  three  years 
before  in  Italy,  where  he  had  held  a 
diplomatic  position  for  four  years  before  his 
death.  Thus  it  had  happened  that  his  only 
daughter,  Elizabeth,  released  from  school-life 
at  Farmington  when  but  eighteen,  had  gone 
abroad  directly  to  join  her  parents,  and  made 
Italy  her  home  for  the  next  two  years.  The 
beauty  and  insidious  charm  of  that  most  en- 
chanting of  southern  climes,  had  inoculated  her 
with  the  undying  nostalgia  which  all  Italians 

18 


The  Common  Problem  19 

feel  for  the  land  of  their  birth,  and  she  had 
loved  this  adopted  country  far  more  than  any 
one  who  knew  her,  dreamed ;  except,  perhaps 
her  father,  who,  under  his  reserved,  self-reliant 
exterior,  held  in  leash  the  same  untamed 
enthusiasm  for  beauty  and  vivid  life  with  a 
control  which  Elizabeth  at  first  unconsciously^ 
later  understandingly,  had  appreciated  and 
imitated  as  far  back  as  she  could  remember. 

Her  life  abroad  during  those  two  years  had 
been  full  to  the  brim  of  developing  experience. 
During  the  summer,  they  had  travelled  after 
the  most  ideally  inconsequent  fashion,  fasten- 
ing, like  lichens,  upon  congenial  soil,  absorbing 
the  very  life  of  places  that  appealed  to  them  ; 
and  shunning  with  wayward  independence 
whatever  bored  or  wearied  them — no  matter 
how  famous  and  world-renowned  it  might  be. 

Mr.  Wallace,  upon  his  first  trip  abroad, 
some  thirty  years  previous,  had  met  and  mar- 
ried a  beautiful  English  girl,  whose  family  had 
strongly  disapproved  of  the  American  alliance. 
This  opposition  had  lent  such  an  unwonted 


20  As  Having  Nothing 

strength  of  character  to  the  girl,  and  such  in- 
tensity of  self-revelation  to  the  man,  that  both, 
after  the  marriage  was  finally  achieved,  had  re- 
alized a  certain  disillusionment. 

Mrs.  Wallace  had  relapsed  into  her  original 
and  natural  role  of  a  beautiful,  delicately 
reared  woman,  with  a  gentle,  yielding,  confid- 
ing disposition,  and  a  certain  absence  of  humor 
which  was  in  itself  most  humorous.  Her 
husband,  who  in  his  fierce,  irresistible  wooing, 
had  torn  the  tendrils  of  her  life  away  from  their 
accustomed  support,  had  assumed  again,  in  the 
security  of  his  first  happiness,  an  almost  super- 
human control  of  that  inner  self  which  he 
had  revealed  violently  in  the  face  of  a  feared 
denial  of  his  love.  When,  little  by  little,  he 
came  to  realize  that  his  wife's  response  to  his 
true  nature  had  been  only  momentary,  that 
she  could  never  fill  his  life  in  the  complete 
sense  of  the  word,  his  self-control,  in  place  of 
being  assumed,  became  habitual,  and  the  holy 
of  holies  in  his  great  reserved  soul,  was  locked 
away  ;  while  over  its  charming  outer  courts  his 


The  Common  Problem  21 

wife  held  gracious,  sovereign  sway,  guarded  by 
an  infinite  tenderness,  which  perhaps  develop- 
ed and  strengthened  the  man  as  much  as  would 
the  absolute  soul  sympathy  of  which  he  had 
dreamed  for  a  brief  interval. 

Who  knows !  Perhaps  if  he  had  not  uncon- 
sciously looked  for  intuitive  comprehension  in 
the  woman  who  loved  him  ;  if  he  had,  from  the 
first,  continued  to  reveal  himself  as  in  the  early 
days  of  their  romantic  courtship  ;  or  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  his  wife  had  not  allowed  the  change 
to  affect  her  shrinking  disposition,  but  had 
penetrated  voluntarily  and  uninvited  into  those 
inner  rooms  while  only  an  unlocked  door  swung 
between,  ere  it  was  barred  too  firmly  for  her 
light  touch  to  move,  life  might  have  been  very 
different  for  them  both.  Who  knows !  But 
as  it  was,  the  mistake — if  mistake  it  had  been 
— once  made,  could  never  be  rectified  ;  and  in 
a  short  time  the  changed  conditions  grew 
irremediable. 

Mrs.  Wallace  was  proud  of  her  husband  ; 
proud  of  his  appearance,  his  standing,  and  his 


22  As  Having  Nothing 

intellect.  She  relied  childishly  on  his  protect- 
ing tenderness ;  and,  once  in  a  while,  she 
would  furtively  draw  out  a  small  package  of 
old  letters,  and  blush  over  the  ardent  love 
they  expressed,  almost  as  if  they  had  been 
written  by  some  lost  lover,  even  to  think  of 
whom  seemed  an  act  disloyal  and  unfaithful  to 
her  grave,  self-contained  husband. 

When  Elizabeth  was  a  little  girl,  she  often 
wondered  why  it  was  that  her  father  seemed 
so  different  when  she  was  alone  with  him.  At 
such  times,  he  was  the  veriest  boy,  with  an  un- 
failing fund  of  sympathy  and  spontaneous 
camaraderie  that  made  him  her  dearest  friend 
and  playfellow,  as  well  as  her  idol  and  hero. 
During  those  last  two  years  spent  abroad,  she 
grew,  in  an  undefined  way,  to  understand  the 
reason.  Loving  her  beautiful  mother,  as  she 
did,  with  a  passionate  admiration,  there  crept 
gradually  into  this  feeling  the  same  tenderly 
protective  element  which  was  so  strong  in  her 
father ;  and  when  the  great  wrench  had  come, 
the  relation  of  mother  and  daughter  seemed  to 


The  Common  Problem  23 

be  reversed,  and  Elizabeth's  chief  aim  and  de- 
sire in  life  grew  to  be  to  spare  her  mother  all 
the  inconvenience  and  discomfort  consequent 
upon  their  changed  circumstances.  Mr.  Wal- 
lace had  left  almost  nothing.  By  a  sad  and 
luckless  combination  of  affairs,  his  investments, 
one  after  the  other,  although  seemingly  wise 
and  safe,  failed  to  succeed ;  and  just  after  his 
death,  a  large  interest  in  a  promising  Western 
mine,  their  chief  reliance,  had  become  worth- 
less, through  a  sudden  inundation  which  ren- 
dered its  development  utterly  impossible 
without  the  expenditure  of  a  fabulous  sum, 
which  was  not  forthcoming. 

All  that  they  now  had  left,  beside  a  small 
life  insurance,  was  a  few  shares  in  some  South- 
ern railroads,  which  paid  a  trifling  four  hun- 
dred dollars  a  year.  Something  must  be 
done ;  and,  obviously,  Elizabeth  had  to  do  it. 
And  why  not  ?  Elizabeth  had  youth,  abound- 
ing, resilient  health  and  good  spirits ;  and,  at 
the  bottom  of  her  soul,  a  perfect  dragon  of 
ambition  that  hitherto  had  shown  itself  only 


24  As  Having  Nothing 

in  an  unprecedented  popularity  at  school  and 
with  the  brilliant,  but  rather  heterogeneous, 
foreign  society  in  which  she  had  moved. 

The  English  relatives  came  eagerly  to  the 
fore,  with  a  generosity  which  one  is  tempted 
to  think  was  prompted  by  Elizabeth's  beauty, 
and  the  tacit  assurance  it  gave  of  a  great 
matrimonial  future  if  properly  put  upon  the 
market,  rather  than  the  disinterested  charity 
they  professed.  It  was  all  planned  for  them 
suavely,  and  indeed  most  kindly.  Mrs.  Wal- 
lace and  her  daughter  were  to  make  their  home 
in  England,  with  the  eldest  branch,  and  when 
the  period  of  Elizabeth's  mourning  had  ex- 
pired, she  was  to  be  introduced  to  her  adopted 
sovereign,  and  given  "every  advantage  of  a 
London  season."  Mrs.  Wallace  sighed  with 
gentle  resignation,  as  happy  as  she  could  be  in 
her  desolate  widowhood,  at  this  safe  and  more 
than  respectable  way  out  of  their  difficulties. 

But  lo  !  Elizabeth  flapped  the  wings  of  her 
dawning  independence,  and  dormant  genius, 
and  "  flew  straight  in  the  face  of  Providence," 


The  Common  Problem  25 

as  the  very  stiff-necked  and  very  aristocratic 
aunt,  from  whom  the  suggestion  emanated, 
somewhat  egotistically,  but  perhaps  excusably, 
put  it. 

At  school  Elizabeth  had  studied  art,  and 
soon  leaped  far  beyond  the  teaching  of  the 
conscientious,  but  rather  limited  artist,  who  at 
that  time  presided  over  the  Farmington  studio. 
Her  talent  had  been  considered  something 
wonderful  by  the  girls,  and  even  among  their 
elders,  and  she  had  been  very  seriously  urged 
to  develope  it  when  she  left. 

This  she  had  determined  to  do  herself ;  but 
the  dream-begetting,  procrastinating  spirit  of 
the  South  had  held  her  entranced  during  those 
two  happy  years,  which  were,  however,  not 
wholly  lost,  since  she  had  breathed  in  beauty 
at  every  pore,  absorbing  it  like  a  sponge  un- 
til such  time  as  she  should  be  so  weighted  with 
her  appreciation  of  nature,  that  it  must  needs 
escape  as  art.  All  that  time  she  had  scarcely 
drawn  a  line,  but  at  her  father's  instigation, 
she  had  studied  and  learned  to  appreciate,  with 


26  As  Having  Nothing 

the  finest  discrimination,  the  thought  and 
technique  of  every  artist  worthy  of  the  name, 
the  fruit  of  whose  toil  and  genius  hung  luscious 
and  beautiful  in  the  different  galleries  of 
Europe.  Now,  she  suddenly  gave  voice  to  a 
startling  and  daring  decision.  They  would 
take  the  life-insurance  and  migrate  to  Paris 
where  she  would  invest  it  in  tuition  fees  and 
artists'  materials.  All  of  which,  she  assured 
her  mother,  with  a  confidence  not  to  be  re- 
sisted, would  pay  back  compound  interest,  be- 
fore long,  in  the  salable  work  which  it  would 
enable  her  to  produce. 

Mrs.  Wallace  yielded, — of  course  she 
yielded.  She  even  grew  to  believe  that  the 
suggestion  was  of  her  own  making,  so  inter- 
ested and  absorbed  did  she  grow  in  Elizabeth's 
progress,  which  was  almost  phenomenal. 

What  a  busy,  never-to-be-forgotten,  happy, 
never-to-be-equalled  time  that  had  been,  when 
they  lived  "  with  the  sparrows  among  the 
spires,"  au  cinquitme,  of  numero  dix,  Square 
du  Froissart,  that  highly  respectable  outpost 


The  Common  Problem  27 

on  the  coast  of  Bohemia.  Mrs.  Wallace  and 
Elizabeth,  searching  with  discouraged  feet  for 
an  abiding  place,  (since  pensions  were  either 
too  hopelessly  exorbitant  in  their  prices,  or  too 
hopelessly  cheap  in  their  accommodations), 
had  come  on  this  majestic  pile,  built  about  an 
immaculate  paved  courtyard,  and  exclusively 
enclosed  behind  an  imposing  mediaeval  gate- 
way. Indulging  a  whim  of  Elizabeth's,  they 
had  inquired  the  price  of  apartments  there, 
and  found,  to  their  boundless  satisfaction,  one 
tiny  gem,  which  proved,  after  careful  consid- 
eration of  ways  and  means,  actually  within  their 
modest  reach.  Then,  what  makeshifts  and 
marvels  of  economical  furnishing ;  what  laugh- 
able playing  at  marketing ;  what  doll's  house- 
keeping in  the  four,  wee  rooms,  with  their 
delightfully  inappropriate  French  grandeur  of 
slippery  hard-wood  floors  and  huge,  gilt  man- 
tel mirrors,  their  infinitesimal  fireplaces,  and 
their  gaping  window  casements,  which  had  to 
be  piped  with  felt,  to  keep  out  the  biting, 
penetrating  Paris  weather  !  What  novel  and 


28  As  Having  Nothing 

stimulating  studio  companionship  with  the 
clique  of  girl  students,  clever,  busy,  inconsis- 
tently miserable  and  happy  at  one  and  the 
same  time  over  their  absorbing  work,  of  every 
nationality  under  the  sun,  with  their  jargon  of 
art  talk,  their  aims,  and  their  eccentricities, — 
above  all,  their  eccentricities  ! 

There  was  comfortable,  red-cheeked,  slow- 
moving  little  Gretchen,  she  of  the  coral 
necklace,  the  atrocious  hats,  and  the  breath- 
taking talent,  whose  masterly  sway  over  her 
charcoal  earned  her  the  studio  nickname  of 
Holbein  ;  the  pale  little  Pole,  with  the  lonely 
eyes  and  the  fiery  temperament  of  her  race, 
who,  upon  her  first  visit  to  Elizabeth  and  her 
mother  in  the  cosey  apartment,  had  burst  into 
exile  tears,  exclaiming,  "Ah,  cest  le  del!" 
and,  being  tenderly  comforted,  had  ever  after- 
wards loved  them  both  to  distraction.  The 
tall,  irritating  American  and  the  small,  irritated 
Armenian,  who  daily  treated  the  studio  to  al- 
ternating chills  and  fevers,  in  defence  of  their 
clashing  theories  on  the  subject  of  ventilation, 


The  Common  Problem  29 

punctuating  the  silences  of  the  poses  with  the 
savage  opening  and  shutting  of  windows,  to  the 
accompaniment  of  such  remarks  as  "  Ah-h-h, 
you  will  send  me  to  the  cimeti'ere !  "  and  "No, 
for  we  will  all  be  cremated,  first ! ! "  There, 
too,  the  delicate  daughter  of  the  haute  no- 
blesse, chaperoned  to  the  bitter  end  by  her 
long-suffering  gouvernante,  who  yawned 
against  the  wall,  under  the  rows  of  assorted 
cloaks,  and  read  French  novels,  while  her 
pathetic  charge  imbibed,  along  with  her  art, 
strange  revolutionary  views  of  les  convenan- 
ces, from  the  sympathetic  Americans  and  the 
antipathetic  English.  There,  came  and  went, 
at  irregular  intervals,  the  naive  nondescript  in 
the  blue  glasses, — she  who  came,  no  one  knew 
whence,  remained  three  days,  painting  with 
sublime  serenity  (still  in  the  blue  glasses), 
abnormal  figures  on  impossible  backgrounds, 
and  then  vanished,  no  one  knew  whither,  only 
to  reappear  as  silently  and  inscrutably  as  be- 
fore— and  always  in  the  blue  glasses  !  There, 
too,  sadly  alien  among  that  crowd  of  young, 


30  As  Having  Nothing 

hopeful  faces,  the  gentle  little  white-haired  old 
lady,  who  crept  faithfully  to  her  post,  day  after 
day,  through  storm  or  sunshine,  to  quiver  sen- 
sitively beneath  the  mildest  criticism,  and  still 
patiently  to  cover  canvas  after  canvas,  with 
work  that  made  Elizabeth's  heart  ache  with 
pity, — for  it  could  never,  never,  never  chance  to 
be  anything  but  hopelessly  weak  and  mediocre. 
In  sharp  distinction  to  her,  the  tall,  calm, 
sweet,  young  English  girl,  who  painted  the 
great  soul  of  nature  into  her  canvas,  but  who 
did  not  understand  French,  and  so  never  knew 
it  when  the  master  went  into  solemn  ecstasies 
before  her  studies,  but  stood  by  in  an  unmoved 
and  dreamy  silence,  while  he  poured  out  his 
reverent  appreciation,  and  the  other  girls 
waited  about  till  he  had  gone,  open-eyed  and 
open-eared,  like  hushed  devotees  at  a  prayer- 
meeting,  and  then  translated  it  all  to  her,  vocif- 
erously, divided  between  admiration  of  her 
prowess,  and  exasperation  over  her  lack  of  re- 
sponse to  what  they  would  have  given  all  they 
possessed  to  have  heard  at  their  own  easels. 


The  Common  Problem  31 

In  the  midst  of  it  all,  Elizabeth,  intuitive, 
receptive, — a  bubbling  fount  of  enthusiasm  as 
her  criticisms  ran  the  ascending  scale  from — 
"  N'  ayez  pas  peur,  mademoiselle,  n'  ayez  pas 
peur.  II  faut  vaincre  cette  timdite' !  Donnez 
vous  plus  de  mal.  II  faut  aller  plus  loin  que 
c^a,  mademoiselle,  plus  loin  que  $a ! "  and  "  II 
faut  comprendre  la  beaute  des  ombres.  Re- 
gardez  comme  c'est  joli  dans  la  module,  comme 
^a  passe,"  to  "  II  y  a  des  choses  pas  mal  la  de- 
dans. (Ja  peut  venir,  mademoiselle,  9a  peut 
venir,"  and  "  Vous  avez  1'oeil  qui  voit !  C'est 
vraiment  artiste  qui  a  fait  $a  ! " 

One  beautiful  winter  given  up  to  art  for  art's 
sake,  and  then,  Elizabeth,  ardent  lover  of  the 
ideal  though  she  was,  spent  a  long,  practical 
day's  work,  shut  up  with  her  account  books, 
and  emerged  at  the  end  of  it,  with  the  follow- 
ing astounding  declaration:  "This  work  is 
heavenly,  Mother,  but  I  have  had  enough  now 
to  know  how  to  go  on  alone,  and  it's  not 
teaching  me  a  thing  that  will  be  marketable 
for  ages.  I  cannot  be  a  famous  portrait 


32  As  Having  Nothing 

painter  in  a  day,  and  illustration  is  the  thing  I 
need  now.  It  will  teach  me  to  '  formulate  my 
ideas,  and  develop  the  pictorial  instinct,' "  she 
mimicked  naughtily,  "  and  while  I  am  boiling 
the  pot  most  of  the  time  I  can  work  on,  in  odd 
moments,  at  my  beloved  painting.  I  have 
heard  a  great  deal  about  Lasar,  who  takes  a 
summer  class  to  Brittany  every  year,  and  lets 
them  work  in  every  medium  under  the  sun, 
literally.  They  say  he  is  full  of  ideas  for  illus- 
tration, and  can  help  one  about  all  the  ins  and 
outs  of  reproduction  better  than  any  French- 
man. So,  dear,  we  will  spend  this  summer  in 
Brittany,  and  I  shall  bury  my  colors  at  the 
bottom  of  my  trunk,  and  go  into  mourning  for 
my  beloved  '  palette,'  by  using  strictly  black 
and  white.  Then  early  in  the  autumn,  we 
will  go  home,  and  I,  as  a  pupil  of  Merson, 
Collin,  Aman  Jean  and  Lasar,  will  do  steady 
and  remunerative  work  on  the  great  New 
York  periodicals,  until  we  are  so  wealthy  we 
can  afford  to  come  back  and  revel  in  tubs  of 
paint  and  life-size  canvases,  and  be  unbusi- 


The  Common  Problem  33 

ness-like   and   visionary   to   our    heart's   con- 
tent." 

And  so  it  was — precisely  as  the  sibyl  had 
foretold.  Only — the  way  of  the  illustrator 
proved  hard  in  the  beginning,  and  the  great 
periodicals  did  not,  at  first  glance,  seem  quite 
so  impressed  by  her  array  of  French  names 
as  Elizabeth  had  fondly  dreamed.  They 
looked  kindly — yes,  on  the  whole,  very  kindly 
— upon  her  portfolio  of  sketches,  over  which 
the  eyes  of  a  few  art  editors  brightened  visibly, 
although  they  shook  their  heads  over  the 
chances  of  such  broad  work  reproducing  well, 
and  found  fault  with  her  medium,  or  paper,  or 
both.  Then  they,  one  and  all,  demanded  what 
experience  she  had  had  ;  and  when  she  an- 
swered, spiritedly,  that  that  was  the  very  thing 
she  was  in  search  of,  they  murmured  cour- 
teously that  there  were  many,  very  many,  in 
the  same  position  ;  adding  that,  as  her  work 
was  promising  however,  they  would  be  glad  to 
take  her  name  and  address ;  and,  in  case  any- 
thing turned  up — etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

3 


34  As  Having  Nothing 

No  one  will  ever  know  the  depths  of  sensi- 
tive humiliation  and  wounded  feeling  with 
which  the  young  girl  battled  during  those  brief 
elevator  trips,  which  shot  her  up  to  the  offices 
of  these  august  personages  with  a  celerity 
which  left  her  soul  and  confidence  behind  on 
the  ground  floor  ;  or  down  from  their  chilling 
presence  with  a  sinking  swiftness  that  landed 
her  on  the  pavement  almost  too  discouraged 
to  continue.  There  were  qualms  too,  dreadful 
qualms,  when  she  fought  the  frightened  sug- 
gestion of  a  more  cowardly,  unreliant  self 
which  whispered  that  she  had  been  criminally 
wrong  and  short-sighted  to  use  their  little  all, 
in  almost  its  entirety,  to  prepare  herself  for  a 
pursuit  for  which  she  was  apparently  not 
fitted. 

But  these  moments  would  soon  pass  ;  and 
Elizabeth  would  take  out  three  little  charcoal 
sketches,  which  she  specially  loved,  and  look  at 
them  till  the  light  came  back  to  her  eyes,  and 
the  confidence  to  her  heart.  Then  she  would 
slip  them  back  into  her  desk  again,  perfectly 


The  Common  Problem  35 

reassured  as  to  the  wisdom  of  her  decision, 
and  the  ultimate  success  of  her  work. 

One  fateful  day,  an  art  editor  had  said 
casually,  fingering  a  specimen  of  decorative 
line  work  as  he  spoke :  "  Have  you  ever 
done  any  advertising  illustration  ?  This  sort 
of  thing,  now,  would  go  like  wildfire  for  a 
poster  or  up-to-date  advertisement.  There  is 
a  great  demand  for  that  sort  of  thing  just  now, 
you  know." 

•  To  be  sure  !  Posters  !  Why  had  she  not 
thought  of  that  ?  She,  who  so  delighted  in  a 
carefully  chosen  collection  of  the  most  artistic 
French  affiches  !  She  inquired  more  particu- 
larly, and  was  directed  to  a  great  advertising 
firm,  who  gave  her  work  at  once  which,  though 
miserably  commonplace,  paid,  and  paid  fairly 
well.  Soon  she  had  all  she  could  do  of  this 
sort  of  work,  and  the  pot  boiled  merrily  ;  while 
Elizabeth  tried  to  stifle  her  artistic  instincts, 
which  she  was  obliged  to  outrage  continually, 
and  to  persuade  her  obstreperous,  ambitious 
Pegasus  to  trot  contentedly  in  the  ugly, 


36  As  Having  Nothing 

utilitarian  harness  into  which  the  advertisers 
would  fain  force  him. 

On  the  strength  of  the  success  of  her  design 
for  a  soap  poster  in  a  wide  competition,  and 
the  ensuing  orders  for  similar  work  which 
had  come  of  it,  she  had  rented  a  small 
studio  in  the  Velasquez  Building  on  55th 
Street,  where  she  could  pose  models,  and 
work  more  freely  than  in  the  small  apart- 
ment where  they  were  living.  She  had  sent 
two  designs  to  the  competition,  and  the  more 
mediocre  had  won  the  prize.  But  that  was  a 
detail  which  ought  not  to  worry  anyone  whose 
aim  it  is  to  boil  the  pot,  and  Elizabeth  pocket- 
ed her  pride,  curbed  her  originality,  and  worked 
early  and  late,  turning  out,  like  a  cheerful 
machine,  advertisements  after  the  most  ap- 
provedly  crude,  "  chromoesque  "  pattern.  Only 
the  soft  yellow  cushions  of  the  studio  couch 
knew  how  hard  it  sometimes  was, — and  they 
were  waterproof  and  showed  no  stains.  At 
home,  Elizabeth  was  her  buoyant,  brave  and 
hopeful,  happy  self  ;  and  Mrs.  Wallace  swelled 


The  Common  Problem  37 

like  a  modest  peahen  at  the  glittering  colors 
of  her  offspring,  and  admired  everything  with 
a  faithful  impartiality  that  acted  as  a  mild  but 
efficient  tonic  to  the  tired  girl. 

One  hard  thing  about  living  in  New  York 
was — friends.  At  Farmington,  as  I  have  said, 
Elizabeth  had  been  deservedly  and  undisguis- 
edly  popular,  in  spite  of  a  certain  personal 
reserve  that  inspired  admiration  oftener  than 
intimacy ;  and,  although  she  had  taken  no 
pains  to  let  any  but  those  dearest  to  her  know 
of  her  return,  the  news  was  soon  spread,  and 
she  was  besieged  in  her  studio  by  the  girls 
who  remembered  her  wit  and  charm,  of  old, 
and  flooded  with  warm  and  honest  entreaties 
to  come  forth  and  share  in  the  winter's  friv- 
olity, adding  her  portion  to  its  fun.  They 
were  enthusiastic  in  praise  of  her  work,  of  her 
daring  originality,  and  independence.  She 
might  have  become  a  fad,  had  she  wanted  ; 
while,  if  she  had  hinted  at  the  real  straitness 
of  her  circumstances,  scores  of  friendly,  girl- 
ish hands  would  have  been  stretched  out  to 


38  As  Having  Nothing 

help,  her  foreign  sketches  would  have  been 
bought  up  delightedly,  and,  possibly,  even 
portrait  orders  would  have  flowed  in  upon 
her. 

But, — Elizabeth  was  proud  ;  proud  with  the 
very  stiffest  kind  of  pride  ;  perhaps,  too,  a 
contradictory  pride,  which,  although  it  made 
no  secret  of  necessity  in  a  business  transaction, 
yet  shrank,  with  unconquerable  distaste,  from 
being  helped  by  a  social  world,  through  a  sense 
of  pity,  before  she  had  proved  her  talent,  and 
could  win  the  better  work,  because  of  its  in- 
trinsic merit.  So  she  refused  most  of  the 
invitations,  pleading  the  interest  of  her  work, 
her  mother's  loneliness,  and  their  still  recent 
bereavement,  as  very  sufficient  excuses  ;  and 
opening  her  real  heart  only  to  one. 

One  day,  at  the  end  of  the  winter,  Joan 
Whetmore  had  stopped  her  carriage  at  the 
Velasquez,  and  rushed  in  on  Elizabeth  with  a 
suddenness  that  surprised  a  despondent  mood 
before  it  could  be  controlled.  The  dark  head, 
buried  in  the  yellow  cushions,  failed  to  hear 


The  Common  Problem  39 

the  light  knock,  and  in  a  minute  Joan  was  on 
her  knees  by  the  side  of  the  couch. 

"  Dear  old  Beth,"  she  said,  with  that  direct 
comfort  that  we  all  need  at  times,  "  you  're 
blue,  I  know.  And  it  's  no  use  pretending  to 
me  that  you  are  doing  all  this  for  fun.  Don't 
you  suppose  I  know  ?  Don't  you  suppose  I  Ve 
wanted  and  ached  to  climb  this  great  stone 
wall  you  Ve  built  up  around  your  splendid, 
proud  heart  ?  You  were  off  your  guard  to-day, 
because  you  thought  you  were  alone  and  safe. 
Now  I  've  rushed  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread  ; 
and,  at  the  risk  of  deserving  the  name  applied 
to  such  rash  intruders,  I  am  going  to  get  to 
the  bottom  of  things.  Do  you  imagine  I  have 
forgotten  all  our  good  old  talks  at  school?  If 
you  were  working  for  art's  sake,  don't  I  know 
what  you  would  be  doing,  precious  old  vision- 
ary ?  You  would  be  over  in  Europe,  with 
your  head  in  the  clouds,  painting  with  yard- 
long  brushes,  instead  of  advertising  soap. 
No,  Elizabeth,  you  're  dead  poor.  It  's  no  use 
— don't  wriggle  away  from  me.  You  know 


40  As  Having  Nothing 

you  are  !  But  what  in  the  world  does  it  mat- 
ter, I  should  like  to  know,  except  to  make  me 
love  and  admire  you  all  the  more  ?  Do  turn 
over,  and  let  me  see  your  eyes.  See  if  you 
dare  to  look  into  mine  and  say  I  'm  not  right." 

Of  course  the  truth  came  out  after  this, 
and  that  was  the  last  concealment  which  Eliza- 
beth ever  tried  to  have  with  Joan.  She  was 
"  over  the  garden  wall "  in  earnest,  as  she 
laughingly  declared,  and  their  friendship  was 
dearer  and  stronger  than  ever.  Elizabeth  had 
ended  her  confession  by  taking  out  the  three 
sketches.  "  Here  is  my  antidote  for  a  mood 
like  this,"  she  said,  somewhat  shamefacedly. 
"  When  I  despair  of  ever  doing  anything  bet- 
ter, and  wail  over  my  lost  ideals,  I  look  at 
these.  They  are  good,  are  n't  they  ?  " 

"  Good?" breathed  Joan  ecstatically  ;  "  Eliz- 
abeth, they  are  adorable !  You  must  let  me 
keep  these  one  night — just  one,  please.  It 's 
a  secret,  but  I  must  get  an  opinion  which  I 
value  on  them.  Have  you  showed  them  to 
anyone  yet  ? " 


The  Common  Problem  41 

"  No,  they  are  only  sketches,  you  know, 
and  I  did  not  think  they  would  appeal — they 
meant  something  to  me,  you  see,  but  I  did  n't 
think — here !  give  them  back  to  me  ! "  she 
ended,  snatching  at  the  cherished  sheets.  But 
Joan  was  too  quick  for  her. 

"  No,  you  sha  'n't  hide  your  light  under  a 
bushel  another  minute.  This  is  what  I  call 
genius,  and  I  am  going  to  take  them  home, 
and  find  out  if  I  am  a  goose.  Let  me,  dear, 
please, — for  the  sake  of  the  good  you  say  I  've 
done  you.  Havel  done  you  any  good?"  in 
a  wheedling  voice. 

Elizabeth  laughed  lovingly.  "  Yes,  indeed 
you  have,  Joan.  More  than  you  guess.  Take 
them  if  you  want  to,  then  ;  but  they  are  noth- 
ing but  sketches,  you  know.  And  be  sure  you 
bring  them  back,  for  they  are  my  dernier 
resort,  remember." 

But  when  Joan  appeared  the  next  day,  she 
was  jubilant.  "  I  'm  so  proud  of  my  bump  of 
appreciation  that  I  am  going  to  turn  art  critic 
on  the  spot,"  she  announced,  with  a  bubbling 


42  As  Having  Nothing 

pleasure  that  was  extremely  contagious.  "  I 
showed  them  to  the  man  I  told  you  of,  and  he 
raved,  Betty, — actually  raved  and  tore  his 
hair.  You  dear  old  lambkin,  your  fortune  is 
made,  and  I  believe  I  am  destined  to  be  the 
mouse  who  gnaws  away  your  bonds — this  use- 
less me,  think  of  it !  He  wanted  to  see  you 
right  away ;  and  after  I  described  you,  he 
wanted  to  see  you  right  'awayer.'  And  I  am 
going  to  bring  him  up  this  afternoon  for  tea 
and  talk,  biscuits  and  business." 

"  But,  Joan,"  gasped  Elizabeth,  laughing 
helplessly  at  this  tirade,  "  who  is  he,  and  why 
is  it  all  so  important  ?  " 

"  Oh,  bless  me  !  I  thought  I  told  you  yester- 
day ;  well,  he — "  with  a  sort  of  deliberate, 
familiar  scorn — "  he  is  n't  much — that  is,  as  a 
man,  you  know.  But  as  a  power,  my  dear,  he 
is — immense !  He  is  Bertram  Linton,  son  of 
the  senior  member  of  the  Boston  publishing 
house  of  Linton,  West,  &  Co.  ;  and  as  he  has 
spent  his  life  cultivating  his  aesthetic  tastes  for 
art  and  literature,  and  catering  to  the  hot- 


The  Common  Problem  43 

house  productions,  his  word,  when  he  chooses 
to  put  his  finger  in  the  publishing  pi,  is  law  to 
the  firm.  He  is  far  too  lazy  to  be  art  editor, 
which  he  ought  to  be  ;  but  when  he  deigns  to 
advise  and  enlighten  the  real  art  editor,  it  is 
whispered  that  the  real  art  editor  is  flattered 
and  acquiescent  to  the  last  degree." 

So  it  happened  that  the  blase"  Bertram  Lin- 
ton  had  come  to  the  studio  that  same  afternoon, 
still  under  the  influence  of  the  previous  night's 
enthusiasm  ;  had  imbibed  several  cups  of  Rus- 
sian tea  ;  nibbled  wafers  to  a  most  intimate 
amount ;  put  his  hands  in  his  mental  pockets 
and  jingled  the  social  small  change  there ; 
looked  quizzically  at  the  posters,  and  silently 
at  the  Brittany  portfolio ;  and  then — when 
Elizabeth  was  thoroughly  out  of  patience  with 
him  and  inwardly  fuming  over  her  wasted 
afternoon — just  as  he  rose  to  go,  had  plunged 
instantly  and  cleanly  into  business,  losing  his 
drawl  as  if  by  magic. 

"  Those  sketches  I  saw  of  yours  last  night 
were  masterpieces  in  their  way,  Miss  Wallace. 


44  As  Having  Nothing 

You  have  the  sensitive  touch  which  knows  how 
to  reveal  without  blurring  or  marring  your  im- 
pressions and  appreciation  of  nature.  Char- 
coal is  the  very  medium  for  the  talent  you 
possess.  There  is  no  reason  why  that  sort 
of  thing  should  not  be  reproduced  perfectly. 
Would  it  be  possible  for  you  to  let  us  have 
three  drawings  for  a  short  story  which  we  have 
in  mind  for  the  June  Papyrus  f  It  is  by  Hoi- 
worthy.  You  know  his  style,  and  it  will,  I 
think,  lend  itself  to  your  interpretation  very 
aptly.  Let  me  see  :  I  return  to  Boston  to- 
night. I  could  send  you  the  manuscript  to- 
morrow. Could  you  let  us  have  the  drawings 
by  the  end  of  the  month  ?  It  would  be  a  great 
favor." 

Elizabeth's  business  expression — attentive, 
grave,  and  comprehending — had  fallen  upon 
her  like  a  mantle,  and  not  even  Joan  guessed 
at  the  tumult  of  joy  and  anticipation  which 
this  unexpected  offer  of  congenial  work  aroused 
in  the  ardent  heart  that  had  beaten  so  per- 
functorily over  advertisements. 


The  Common  Problem  45 

"  I  think  I  may  trust  myself  to  undertake 
it,"  she  said  simply ;  "  I  shall  be  very  glad  of 
the  opportunity." 

Two  days  later  an  Idyll  of  the  Queen  reached 
her  ;  and  that  her  illustrations  for  it  were  sat- 
isfactory, is  already  known. 


CHAPTER  III 

IDEALS 

"  C'est  le  vague  ou  1'ame  s'endort 
Sous  les  ailles  blanches  d'un  reve." 

"  A  ND  all  these  years,  while  you  have  been 
/"\  'going  to  and  fro  in  the  earth,  and 
walking  up  and  down  in  it,'  you  Ve  never — 
once — been  in  love  ?  Not  even  in  magical 
Italy,  the  very  name  of  which  is  sufficient  to 
put  one  in  a  susceptible  condition  ?  Oh,  I 
give  you  up  !  'If  of  herself  she  will  not  love, 
nothing  can  make  her ' — the  fate  of  such  a  one 
is  too  horrible  to  quote  ;  but  it  is  what  you 
deserve,  you  hard-hearted  wretch  !  " 

Joan's  voice  came  lazily  from  the  depths  of 
the  big  divan,  where  she  had  flung  herself  back 

to  rest  after  posing.     They  had  been  working 

46 


Ideals  47 

at  Joan's  home  for  the  last  few  pictures,  be- 
cause the  luxurious  setting  was  just  what  Eliza- 
beth needed  for  the  "  Wisp  "  heroine,  who,  more 
and  more  closely,  with  an  almost  uncanny 
development,  had  reflected  the  traits  and  life- 
trend  of  Joan  Whetmore.  It  seemed,  indeed, 
as  if  the  author  must  have  drawn  his  character 
straight  from  the  life.  This  the  girls  knew  to 
be  impossible,  however,  for,  although  Joan 
had  heard  much  of  Calvert  Dodge,  who  had 
been  at  Harvard  with  Bertram  Linton,  and 
who  had  since  been  making  a  modest  name  for 
himself  in  New  York  journalism,  she  had 
never  chanced  to  meet  him.  So  that  one  was 
forced  to  believe,  what  was  really  true,  that  a 
conception  of  a  girl  had  existed  as  an  ideal  in 
the  man's  mind, — an  ideal  which,  surely  more 
perfectly  than  usually  happens  in  this  prosaic 
world  of  ours,  was  capable  of  being  realized  in 
the  flesh. 

The  two  friends  had  been  discussing  the  dt- 
nouement  of  the  story,  a  piece  of  lovable  Quix- 
oticism  and  self-abnegation  on  the  "  Wisp's " 


48  As  Having  Nothing 

part,  of  which  Elizabeth  had  declared,  truth- 
fully, Joan  would  be  quite  capable  —  Joan, 
whose  naively  socialistic  philosophy  was,  as 
yet,  so  little  tarnished  by  the  gay  life  she  led 
and  the  ennuied  cynicism  of  her  world  ;  who 
was  persuaded  that  the  best  way  to  even  things 
up  was  for  a  rich  girl  to  bestow,  if  possible,  her 
heart  and  worldly  goods  upon  a  poor  man,  and 
vice  versa  j  and  to  whom  this  doubling  of  for- 
tunes seemed  a  thing  to  be  rather  sighed  over 
whenever  she  heard  of  it  among  the  people 
she  knew.  The  discussion  of  the  book  had 
led  to  a  discussion  of  a  more  personal  nature, 
which  had  revealed  apparent  saharas  of  soul 
in  the  case  of  both. 

Elizabeth  touched  her  paper  caressingly 
with  her  kneaded  rubber,  which  she  had  rolled 
to  a  pliably  sympathetic  point.  (Joan  insisted 
that  Elizabeth  drew  with  her  rubber  more 
than  her  charcoal.)  Then  she  moved  back  a 
step  or  two,  and  said,  blushing  a  little,  and 
with  eyes  fixed  upon  her  picture,  for  even  the 
slight  self-revelation  was  difficult : 


Ideals  49 

"  Oh,  Joan,  I  'm  not  hard-hearted.  You 
don't  know  me  !  Italy  waked  longings  in  me, 
cravings  which  no  mortal  man  could  ever 
satisfy." 

"  I  know,"  nodded  Joan,  understandingly, 
from  her  corner ;  "let  me  see  if  I  can  express 
it.  It  is  all  in  you — the  power  of  loving,  I 
mean,  Elizabeth — though  you  will  persist  in 
showing  your  haughty  I-can-get-along-perfectly- 
well-without-you  side  to  the  world.  Your 
heart  is  there  safe  enough,  and  warmer  than 
hundreds  of  others  that  pretend  to  be  so  soft. 
Only  it  's  wrapt  around  and  around  with  fold 
upon  fold  of  reserve  and  pride,  which  its  very 
tenderness  needs  as  protection.  Some  day, 
some  man  will  have  the  patience  andthe  tact  and 
the  strength  and  the  gentleness  to  unwrap  it, 
and  to  the  victor  will  belong  the  spoils.  Hush  ! 
Have  n't  I  seen  you,  time  and  time  again, 
'  droop  like  a  bird,  like  a  flower  hang  furled ' 
when  people  were  stupid  enough  not  to  under- 
stand you  ;  or  sparkle  out  like  my  own,  brilliant 
star  when  they  did  ?  Now  I — I  am  so  different. 


50  As  Having  Nothing 

All  that  is  n't  in  me  at  all.  I  show  a  light  and 
flippantly  responsive,  some  say  " — with  a  note  of 
scorn — "  a  lovable  side,  to  the  world  ;  but  all  the 
time,  in  my  heart  I  know  that  something  with- 
in me  would  say, '  so  far,  no  further '  no  matter 
who  should  apply.  I  am  a  frog,  Elizabeth ; 
and  that  being  the  case,  I  wish  I  were  old  and 
ugly  and  poor,  so  people  would  n't  be  foolish." 

"  Ah,  that 's  the  trouble — "  began  Elizabeth 
warmly.  But  Joan  had  not  finished  yet. 

"  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  born 
without  the  power  for  loving,  and  that 
frightens  me.  I  should  hate  myself  so  " — she 
crossed  over  and  slipped  an  arm  about  her 
friend's  waist,  rubbing  her  cheek  softly  on 
Elizabeth's  shoulder.  "  Not  this  sort  of  loving, 
dear  old  thing,  but  the  love  that  ought  to  be 
the  greatest  thing  in  the  world,  the  only  love 
that  could  make  endurable  a  married  intimacy, 
and  the  one  thing  that  could  make  of  such  a 
life  a  beautiful  one.  I  '11  never,  never,  never 
marry  without  it,  and  so — I  '11  live  and  die  an 
old  maid,  for  I  'm  sure  I  '11  never  feel  it." 


Ideals  51 

"  Nonsense,  Joan,  every  girl  under  the  sun, 
blessed,  or  cursed,  with  any  degree  of  critical 
introspection,  or  any  smallest  speck  of  ideal 
about  such  things,  thinks  that.  Of  course  you 
can't  imagine  it.  I  think  if  it  conies,  it  must 
be  a  something  totally,  entirely  new, — an  un- 
suspected flood  of  feeling,  of  which  no  one  can 
form  any  conception  beforehand ;  a  security  of 
trust  which  opens  a  new  life." 

The  hazel  eyes  had  grown  dark  and  tender, 
as  Elizabeth  spoke.  Such  an  outburst  was 
very  unusual  from  this  tall,  self-contained  girl, 
who  spent  her  feelings  in  richest  largess  of 
deeds  upon  her  friends,  but  said  little.  Joan 
watched  her  with  a  kindling  face.  This 
glimpse  of  a  hidden  side  of  the  friend  who  was 
so  dear  to  her,  seemed  to  give  her  a  sudden 
flash  of  enlightenment. 

"  There  it  is,"  she  said,  decidedly  ;  "  I  realize 
these  things  with  my  mind,  and  you  realize 
them  with  your  heart. — Is  it  all  that,  Eliza- 
beth ?  "  she  ended,  with  an  inflection  in  her  voice 
that  the  other  girl  did  not  quite  understand. 


52  As  Having  Nothing 

Elizabeth  laughed  and  broke  the  spell  that 
had  come  over  her,  with  her  old,  teasing,  every- 
day manner.  "  Well,  what 's  the  trouble  with 
the  new  man  ?  "  she  asked,  quizzically  ;  "  there 
always  is  a  new  one,  you  know,  Joan.  Is  he 
too  romantic  for  your  practical  self,  like  the 
one  who  stole  your  slipper  from  his  cousin,  and 
kept  it  filled  with  flowers  all  the  year  round  ?  " 
A  hand  was  here  clapped  over  her  mouth, 
but  she  took  possession  of  it  and  went  on : 
"  Or  too  ambitious,  like  the  one  who  brought 
coals  to  Newcastle,  and  thought  a  lavish  ex- 
penditure in  Thorley's  and  Huyler's  and  opera 
tickets  a  good  investment  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't ! "  besought  Joan,  in  shamed  dis- 
claimer ;  "  I  hate  to  be  reminded  of  that  one. 
And  I  wish  I  were  a  beggar  in  the  streets, 
rather  than  a  rich  girl,  when  I  remember  I  am 
open  to  that  sort  of  indignity." 

"  Don't  be  so  sensitive  about  your  shekels, 
Joan.  That  is  what  I  started  to  say  a  little 
while  ago.  I  firmly  believe  that  is  just  what 
is  making  you  so  suspicious,  and  ultra-analyti- 


Ideals  53 

cal,  and  unresponsive,  for  it 's  not  a  bit  natural 
for  you  to  be  so.  The  world  is  made  up  of  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  men.  Thank  Heaven 
that  you  have  been  gifted  with  discrimination 
enough  to  distinguish  the'  counterfeit  article, 
and  let  such  an  experience  only  make  you 
gladder  of  the  true  thing  when  it  comes." 

"  If  it  comes  ! "  murmured  Joan,  mutinously, 
and  Elizabeth  continued,  provokingly  :  "  But 
to  go  on — does  he  love  you  too  much  or  too 
little  ?  Is  he  too  conscious  of  his  ugliness  to 
be  dignified,  or  of  his  good  looks  to  be  manly  ? 
Have  I  named  them  all  ?  What  is  the  trouble 
with  the  new  one  ?  " 

"Oh,  don't  be  absurd,  Betty!"  cried  Joan, 
gayly,  for  her  mood  had  changed,  too,  while 
the  other  had  raked  up  the  leaves  of  several 
dead  pasts  into  very  recognizable,  characteris- 
tic, little  heaps.  "  There  is  n't  any  new  one. 
If  you  were  only  a  man,  lambkin,  how  simple 
it  would  be.  We  do  agree  so  perfectly." 

"  Yes,  when  we  are  together,  we  do,  Joan," 
said  Elizabeth,  gravely.  "  Do  you  know,  you 


54  As  Having  Nothing 

wise  little  girl,  you  make  life  so  much  less 
complicated  to  me.  You  bring  out  such  a 
nice,  sensible,  practical  side  of  me  always. 
The  day  I  first  saw  you,  when  you  came  to 
Farmington  with  Mrs.  Whetmore,  I  had  been 
having  a  tantrum  all  to  myself,  and  the  minute 
I  laid  my  eyes  on  you,  I  said  to  myself  that 
I  had  been  a  morbid  goose.  That  is  the 
way  to  take  life — with  an  accepted  faith,  and 
firm,  inflexible  principles,  that  keep  one's  fore- 
head like  a  baby's,  at  the  advanced  age  of 
twenty-three — instead  of  taking  it  in  the  vacil- 
lating, I  've-got-to-solve-this-all-by-myself  fash- 
ion, that  imprints  deep  furrows  like  this  " — and 
she  rubbed  her  finger  ruefully  up  and  down 
between  her  straight  eyebrows.  "  Who  would 
ever  think  we  were  the  same  age,  Joan  ?" 

Joan  laughed.  "  Goosey  !  And  do  you  re- 
member what  you  said  to  me  a  few  days  later  ? 
I  recall  it  so  well.  You  said,  '  I  knew  you 
were  good,  right  away,  Miss  Whetmore,'  and 
when  I  asked  you  how  you  told,  you  answered, 
4  By  your  umbrella.'  And  do  you  know,  I  Ve 


Ideals  55 

puzzled  over  that  ever  since.  Wont  you 
explain  it  ?" 

Elizabeth  shook  her  head,  laughing,  too. 
"  Don't  try  to  worm  a  meaning  into  all  my 
foolish  remarks,"  she  said.  "  I  must  be  going 
this  minute.  It's  getting  late,  and  Mother 
will  think  I  've  fallen  into  the  reservoir,  or 
been  sand-bagged  in  the  subway." 

"  You  do  need  me,"  said  Joan,  complacently, 
and  counting  off  the  ways  on  her  fingers  as 
they  went  down  stairs  together.  "  You  need 
me  to  wean  you  from  a  wee  leaning  toward 
the  Bohemian  in  society,  and  from  the  radical 
in  politics,  and  from  an  unorthodox  inclination 
in  religion.  You  need  me  to  laugh  at,  and 
scold  you,  and  to  understand  you,  until  a  man 
comes  along  who  will  have  so  much  faith  in 
God,  in  himself,  and  in  you,  that  you  will  be 
ashamed  to  be  less  than  your  real  self  in  the 
face  of  his  appreciation  of  you — faults  as  well 
as  virtues." 

They  had  reached  the  front  door,  and  Eliza- 
beth paused,  with  her  hand  on  the  knob. 


56  As  Having  Nothing 

"  Joan,  what  makes  you  such  a  wise  little  body 
this  afternoon  ?  "  she  asked,  curiously. 

Joan  shrugged  her  small  shoulders  in  a  non- 
committal fashion.  Then  she  smiled  very 
sweetly.  "  I  can  at  least  appreciate  you,  Beth. 
I  don't  know  how  I  ever  came  to  do  it,  but  I 
believe  I  know  you  better  than  you  do  your- 
self. Let  me  give  you  one  last  thought  which 
you  can  put  into  your  mental  pipe  and  smoke 
all  the  way  home.  To  go  back  to  our  old  dis- 
cussion. Yes,  I  would  be  capable  of  just  such 
a  sacrifice  as  the  Wisp  made.  I  will  give  my- 
self that  much  credit.  But  this,  this  is  the  dif- 
ference between  you  and  me,  and  between  you 
and  the  Wisp.  Don't  you  see,  with  her,  it  was 
the  will  of  the  Wisp — didn't  that  thought 
strike  you  ?  With  me,  it  would  be  the  same. 
I  should  give  up  everything  for  my  love's 
sake,  as  she  did,  but  I  should  do  it  after  coolly 
counting  the  cost,  fully  realizing  what  I  was 
leaving  behind.  In  other  words,  it  would  be  a 
distinct,  conscious  effort  of  will.  While  you, 
Elizabeth,  would  give  it  up  without  even  know- 


Ideals  57 

ing  that  you  had  renounced  anything.  To 
you,  it  would  be  absolutely  no  sacrifice  at  all." 

"And  is  n't  your  way  far  greater  ?  "  responded 
Elizabeth,  promptly  and  loyally  ;  "  you  would 
be  doing  far  more  if  you  realized  the  sacrifice. 
Unless  one  feels  a  sacrifice,  there  is  no  nobil- 
ity at  all  in  it,  don't  you  see?" 

But  Joan  shook  her  head  in  an  unconvinced 
little  way.  And  as  Elizabeth  walked  home 
across  the  Park,  lingering  idly  over  their  con- 
versation, the  sunset  glamour,  always  painfully 
beautiful,  to-night  brought  back  Italy  in  an 
ardent  flood  of  tender  memories,  which  seemed 
to  illuminate  some  hidden  corner  of  her  heart. 
She  realized,  vaguely,  that  Joan  was  right ; 
that  deep  down  in  her  nature,  lay  dreaming 
the  unawakened  south,  and  a  capacity  for  a 
whole-souled  self-surrender,  of  which  Joan, 
tender,  and  true,  and  loving  as  she  was,  was 
utterly  incapable.  And  Elizabeth,  to  whom 
this  friend  of  hers  was  the  embodiment  of  all 
that  was  perfect  maidenliness  and  truest  wom- 
anliness, in  spite  of  her  gilded,  conventional 


58  As  Having  Nothing 

environment,  hated  herself  for  the  knowledge, 
and  hastened  to  bury  the  sudden  conviction 
deep  down  in  the  most  obscure  and  unused 
portion  of  her  brain. 


CHAPTER  IV 

RECONNOITERING 
"  Do  I  chase  the  substance  or  the  shadow  ?    Will  it  hold  ?" 

THE  weather  had  been  merciful  through 
April  and  May,  wonderfully  so.  When 
the  fifteenth  of  May  had  been  passed  without 
one  unbearably  warm  day,  people  whose  fate 
ordained  that  they  should  spend  the  greater 
part  of  their  summer  on  city  stones,  began  to 
congratulate  themselves,  in  a  subdued  way, 
and  to  prophesy  an  unusually  cool  season — 
but  under  their  breath,  for  fear  of  taking  the 
weather  too  much  for  granted  ;  in  which  case, 
fickle  dame  that  she  is,  the  contrariety  of  her 
nature  might  manifest  itself  and  prove  all  their 
boasting  confidence  worse  than  vain. 

59 


60  As  Having  Nothing 

Sure  enough,  something  had  overtaxed  her 
graciousness  at  last,  and  she  asserted  herself 
in  a  breathlessly  close  and  trying  mood,  at  the 
end  of  May ;  a  mood  which  sent  flying,  panic- 
stricken  from  the  city,  those  who  had  lingered 
lazily  on  in  their  luxurious  winter  quarters, 
putting  off  the  hegira  to  various  summer  re- 
sorts, where  the  creature  discomforts  of  insuf- 
ficient room  were  apt  to  obtrude  upon  the 
delights  of  sea  breezes  and  mountain  scenery 
and  fashionable  intercourse. 

One  hot  afternoon,  at  the  end  of  May,  Ber- 
tram Linton,  who  was  apt  to  develop  an  un- 
suspected energy  just  at  the  time  when  other 
people  felt  particularly  limp,  strolled  into  the 
Times  Building,  looking  maddeningly  cool  in 
a  costume  more  suited  to  the  deck  of  a  yacht 
than  a  newspaper  office. 

He  found  Calvert  Dodge  writing  at  his  desk, 
like  one  possessed,  a  deep  frown  between  the 
dark  gray  eyes,  and  an  expression  upon  his 
firm  mouth  which  seemed  to  say,  "  I  '11  do  this 
if  I  die,  weather  or  no  !  "  He  threw  down  his 


Reconnoitering  61 

pen,  however,  and  shook  his  friend's  hand  with 
an  unbusinesslike  heartiness,  as  he  eyed  Ber- 
tram with  an  amused  gleam  in  his  eye.  Lin- 
ton  invariably  probed  his  more  genial  side,  and 
made  him  long  to  be  back  in  the  "yard"  again, 
lying  on  his  back  in  the  shade,  with  a  pipe,  and 
something  cool  in  a  jug  at  his  elbow. 

"When  did  you  run  down,  old  man?"  he 
asked,  in  a  pleased  voice. 

"  Run  !  this  weather !  Preserve  us,  Dodge  ! " 
drawled  the  other.  "He  who  runs  may  reel, 
these  days.  I  sailed  down  in  the  Interloper — 
Tom  Burns's  boat,  you  know.  She  is  anchored 
in  the  Sound  till  to-morrow  night,  and  after 
that  bound  for  Nova  Scotia.  Greatest  lot  of 
duffers  on  board, — the  men  all  done  up  by  this 
heat,  and  cross  to  get  along  up  north,  and  the 
women  rabid  about  some  shopping  which  must 
be  done  in  New  York  before  they  start.  Why 
on  earth  they  put  on  so  much  style  for  the 
wilds,  passes  me.  They  won't  see  a  soul  who 
will  know  whether  they  are  up-to-date  or 
not" 


62  As  Having  Nothing 

"  Possibly,  because  they  are  taking  along  a 
piece  of  civilization  with  them,"  suggested 
Calvert,  cannily. 

"  By  Jove,  I  never  thought  of  that — Madge 
Oliver  and  Tom  Burns,  of  course ;  Mrs.  Brin- 
ton  and  Gaston  !  But  that  Talcott  girl.  I 
wonder  who— 

"How  about  Bertram  Linton?"  insinuated 
Dodge,  drily. 

"  Nonsense  ! "  disclaimed  Linton,  vigorously, 
but  with  a  reminiscent  chuckle ;  "  she  did  haul 
me  in  this  morning,  at  her  chariot  wheels,  how- 
ever. Said  sweet  things  to  me  all  the  way, 
too ;  hinted  that  I  was  the  only  man  of  the 
party ;  the  rest  were  all  selfish  brutes  ;  and 
wanted  me  to  go  match  ribbons  with  her.  I 
broke  away,  though,  and  said  there  was  a  date 
I  had  to  meet,  down-town.  Sounded  well, 
you  know.  She  thought  I  'd  become  homme 
d'affaires  at  once,  and  began  to  talk  aim  in  life, 
and  that  sort  of  thing.  Girls  all  do  that  with 
me,  sooner  or  later.  Great  Scott !  If  they 
only  knew  how  it  amuses  men  ancl  bores  them 


Reconnoitering  63 

to  hear  the  changes  rung,  soprano  and  con- 
tralto, on  the  same  everlasting  text ! " 

Calvert's  droll  expression  twitched  at  the 
corners  of  his  mouth.  "  You  '11  talk  that  way, 
till  The  Girl  comes  along,  Bertie.  Then  her 
arguments  will  be  the  most  wonderfully  in- 
spired law  and  gospel.  You  '11  wonder  how 
you  ever  looked  at  life  in  such  a  beastly,  self- 
ish, inactive  way,  and  you  '11  set  down  every 
man  who  has  no  '  aim  in  life '  as  an  unen- 
lightened clod." 

To  his  surprise,  Linton  did  not  combat  these 
random  shots.  Instead,  he  leaned  across  the 
desk,  and  said  with  a  gravity  that  was  totally 
new  with  him,  "  Hang  it  all,  old  man  !  Once 
in  a  while,  I  feel  as  if  something  had  forced 
me  into  a  false  position.  Things  have  come 
too  much  my  way,  I  believe." 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense,  Bertie  !  If  you  'd  had 
to  work  for  them  as  I  have,  you  'd  be  the  same 
driving  slave,  with  not  a  pleasure  in  life,  ex- 
cept a  cargo  of  dreams  that  could  never  come 
true." 


64  As  Having  Nothing 

"  If  I  'd  had  to  work  for  them,  I  believe  I  'd 
be  a  happier  human  to-day  ;  and  perhaps  others 
might  too.  Who's  the  better  for  my  having 
lived,  I  'd  like  to  know?" 

"  You  great,  stupid,  generous  donkey,  their 
name  is  legion." 

"  Oh,  that ! "  contemptuously.  "  Where 's  the 
credit  of  throwing  away  money?  It's  easier 
to  do  it  than  not  to  do  it.  It  is  n't  as  if  I  had 
to  stint  myself  to  do  it.  What  I  mean  is,  I 
have  never  done  a  lick  of  brain  work,  or  heart 
work,  or  body  work  for  a  living  creature.  I 
call  that  a  pretty  poor  record.  Shut  up !  I 
want  to  finish.  Sometimes,  Calvert,  I  feel  like 
a — a — saturate  solution  of  something.  But 
what  it  is,  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  tell.  I 
know  that  there  are  unsuspected  possibilities 
in  me,  and  that  perhaps  a  single  drop  of  some 
concentrated,  outside  influence  would  set  it  all 
free,  and  precipitate  visibly  whatever  of  good, 
or  power  for  good,  I  possess." 

"  Women  do  that  for  some  men,"  Calvert 
here  interpolated  meaningly — such  flights  of 


Reconnoitering  65 

rhetoric  sounded  suspicious.  He  thought  he 
detected  a  slight  deepening  of  color  on  his 
friend's  face,  which  was,  however,  bronzed  to 
such  an  artistically  deep,  Indian  red  by  sun  and 
wind,  that  it  was  hard  to  be  sure. 

Bertram  looked  straight  ahead  of  him.  "  I 
wonder  if  I  shall  ever  meet  anyone,  man  or 
woman,  who  will  have  that  effect  on  me ;  or 
if  I  am  doomed  to  remain  a  helpless,  heavy, 
saturate  solution  all  my  days,  burdened  with 
the  weight  of  what  I  believe  I  possess,  but 
with  no  means  of  proving  the  truth  to  myself 
or  others.  Pretty  good  simile,  that ! "  he  added, 
with  the  whimsical  self-ridicule  which  was  a 
trick  of  his,  and  a  characteristic  which,  while 
it  would  save  him  from  making  a  great  fool  of 
himself,  might  also  be  the  means  of  shaming 
the  better  impulses  of  his  rarely  aroused  en- 
thusiasm. 

"  Good  enough  for  a  book,"  nodded  Dodge, 
encouragingly.  "  Wonder  if  the  all-powerful 
drop  would  n't  precipitate  literature  into  an 

already  overstocked  world  ?  " 
s 


66  As  Having  Nothing 

"The  gods  forbid!"  cried  Linton,  in  holy 
horror,  "with  all  due  apologies  to  your  profes- 
sion, Calvert.  No  fear  of  that !  Probably  that 
wasn't  my  own  thought  after  all.  That's  al- 
ways the  way !  Whenever  a  thought  strikes 
me  as  having  any  particular  merit,  I  generally 
find  it 's  one  that  has  been  left  on  my  mental 
door-step  at  some  time  or  other,  and  which  I 
have  taken  in  tenderly,  and  adopted,  and  cared 
for,  till  I  have  forgotten  it 's  not  my  very  own. 
Do  you  happen  to  have  met  anyone  in  your 
book  ramblings,  to  whom  that  idea  bears 
enough  resemblance  to  belong  ?  "  he  inquired, 
with  mock  anxiety. 

"Now  that  you  ask  me — "  began  Calvert, 
confidentially ;  but  Linton  rose  to  his  feet  per- 
emptorily. 

"  Come  on,  Calvert,"  he  urged,  "  come  out 
and  lunch  with  a  fellow.  I  sha'n't  see  you  again 
all  summer,  in  all  probability,  and  it 's  not  any 
too  often  you  get  the  chance  of  grubbing  with 
me  these  days,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  if  I  do,  Linton.  I  wanted 


Reconnoitering  67 

to  speak  to  you  about  those  illustration  proofs 
your  people  sent  on  to  me  the  other  day.  I 
never  dreamed  of  being  in  such  luck.  One 
usually  wants  to  disown  one's  characters  after 
they  have  been  interpreted  by  anyone  else ; 
but  these  suit  me  down  to  the  ground." 

"  Great,  are  n't  they  ?  "  agreed  Linton,  some- 
what absent-mindedly.  "  First-rate  !  You  are 
in  luck,  and  so  are  we  to  have  discovered  such 
unusual  talent."  Then,  more  enthusiastically, 
"The  thing  I  like  best  about  you,  Calvert," 
he  added,  as  the  other  shut  his  desk,  with  a 
quick  motion,  and  reached  for  his  hat,  "  is  that 
you  have  n't  any  of  that  infernal  self-importance 
so  many  chaps  have  who  are  n't  half  so  busy. 
You  never  take  the  edge  off  a  fellow's  enthusi- 
asm by  that  beastly,  business-before-pleasure 
way  of  making  a  fellow  wait  for  you." 

His  friend  smiled.  "  Just  because  I  have 
discovered  this  simple  rule  :  '  It 's  usually  as 
easy  to  shave  the  last  end  of  a  pleasure,  and 
use  it  for  business,  as  the  first.'  When  one  ten 
minutes  is  as  good  as  another  ten  minutes,  I 


68  As  Having  Nothing 

believe  in  making  sure  of  the  pleasure  while 
it 's  keen." 

"  That  's  another  thing,"  appreciatively. 
"  You  can  rely  upon  yourself  not  to  forget  the 
ten  minutes  altogether,  and  so  get  desperately 
in  arrears,  and  never  accomplish  anything.  If 
most  people  tried  your  rule,  it  would  be  all 
play  and  no  work,  I  fancy." 

The  next  absorbing  objects  of  discussion 
were  a  bird  and  a  salad  ;  after  which,  while  the 
two  friends  trifled  lazily  over  their  coffee  and 
cigars,  Dodge  reverted  to  the  subject  of  illus- 
tration. To  tell  the  truth,  he  had  been 
actually  startled  when  he  received  the  proofs 
of  Miss  Wallace's  sketches,  at  the  exact,  al- 
most incomprehensible,  portrayal  of  the 
mental  vision  which  had  been  wholly  a  crea- 
tion of  his  fancy.  His  delight  at  the  intuitive 
correspondence  which  this  charcoal  Wisp  bore 
to  his  pen-and-ink  heroine,  delighted  as  well  as 
puzzled  him.  He  knew  enough  about  art  to 
feel,  moreover,  that  the  work  was  not  chicqued 
in  any  particular  ;  and  the  fact,  thus  made  ap- 


Reconnoitering  69 

parent  to  him,  that  there  must  exist,  some- 
where, a  girl  who  answered  so  completely  to 
the  character  which  had  grown  real  and  dear 
to  him  in  the  process  of  evolution,  piqued  his 
curiosity,  and  interest,  to  a  very  unusual  pitch. 
A  coincidence  of  this  sort,  from  its  very  nature, 
which  partook  slightly  of  the  inexplicable,  was 
one  that  could  not  help  but  appeal  to  a  man 
whose  cargo  of  dreams  were,  as  he  himself  had 
acknowledged,  his  chief,  and  almost  his  only, 
pleasure  in  life.  It  was  characteristic  that 
this  should  be  so  ;  and  it  was  also  characteristic 
that  he  should,  involuntarily,  intensify  the 
pleasure  by  keeping  it  entirely  to  himself,  since, 
as  he  was  well  aware,  "  dreams  exposed  to  the 
air  sometimes  fade  !  " 

It  was  with  a  well-assumed  expression,  in 
which  was  visible  nothing  but  the  very  natural 
pleasure  which  an  author  whose  ideas  had 
been  appreciated  might  be  supposed  to  feel, 
that  he  put  the  momentous  first  question 
which  was,  eventually  (so  he  proposed),  to 
lead  him  to  the  flesh-and-blood  Wisp. 


70  As  Having  Nothing 

"Who  is  this  E.  Wallace?"  he  asked, 
casually.  "He  seems,  as  you  sayr  to  possess 
unusual  talent." 

Bertram  Linton  leaned  back,  and  an  in- 
scrutable expression  came  into  his  eyes.  He 
flicked  the  ashes  from  his  cigar  before  he  an- 
swered. "  A  new  light  altogether,"  he  said 
finally,  "  which  I  was  led  to  discover  early  in 
the  spring.  I  was  fascinated  by  the  work  at 
once,  and  got  the  artist  to  illustrate  a  short 
magazine  story  for  the  June  Papyrus.  You 
may  remember  it — '  An  Idyll  of  the  Queen.' 
The  illustrations  were  seized  upon  and  well 
reviewed  everywhere." 

"Of  course  I  remember  it,"  cried  Calvert, 
eagerly.  "  Curious  that  I  had  n't  connected 
the  style  at  once,  for  those  drawings  appealed 
to  me  in  such  a  strangely  personal  way.  I 
felt  as  if  they  held  a  message  for  me,  just  as  one 
feels  in  some  moods  with  nature  itself.  That 
was  what  they  were,  they  were  nature  itself," 
he  ended,  enthusiastically.  "By  Jove !  No  won- 
der I  liked  the  others.  Is  he  a  Boston  man  ?" 


Reconnoitering  71 

"The  artist  is  a  New  Yorker,"  drawled 
Linton,  tipping  his  chair  to  a  more  comfortable 
angle. 

"Is  that  so ?  I  am  no  end  glad  of  that. 
See  here,  Bertie,  I  want  very  much  to  talk 
over  the  last  two  drawings,  which  they  say  are 
not  finished  yet.  I  have  one  pet  scene  in  my 
mind  which  I  think  it  might  not  occur  to  him 
to  illustrate.  It  is  something  I  like  specially, 
although  what  most  people  might  think  trivial, 
and  I  have  a  fancy  to  have  it  brought  out  in  the 
way  he  would  be  sure  to  do  it.  He  has  a 
studio,  I  suppose?"  Linton  nodded.  "Couldn't 
you  take  me  there  this  afternoon  ? "  His 
voice  was  really  very  urgent ;  and  Linton 
brought  his  chair  down  to  the  ground  with  a 
sharp  tap. 

"  Come  on,  then,"  he  said  briefly,  "  it 's  after 
three  now.  I  Ve  got  to  be  back  at  the  yacht 
by  six." 


CHAPTER  V 

A    FALSE    START 

"  He  came  unlocked  for,  undesired." 

Dearth  of  some  factor  prime,  the  poet  sings, 
Time,  place,  or  friendly  soul  withheld  alway  ; 
Thus,  no  perfection  as  on  earth  we  stray. 
Hard  this  may  be,  but  harder  I  reply — 
Granted  occasion  and  congenial  minds — 
The  stubborn,  vexing  spite  of  little  things  ! 

TH  E  two  men  boarded  a  Broadway  cable ; 
and,  half  an  hour  later,  they  were  stand- 
ing outside  Studio  No.  18,  on  the  top  floor  of 
the  Velasquez  building.  Upon  the  oaken 
door  was  a  sign,  bearing  the  name  "  E.  Wal- 
lace "  in  plain  black  letters. 

Bertram  Linton  knocked,  and  a  minute 
later  a  light  step  sounded  within.  Then  the 
door  was  flung  open,  and  Calvert  heard  a  low 

voice  saying  evenly :  "How  do  you  do,  Mr. 

72 


A  False  Start  73 

Linton  ? "  after  which  he  became  vaguely  aware 
that  his  name  was  being  mentioned  in  con- 
nection with  that  of  a  tall,  rather  unfriendly 
looking  girl,  to  whom  he  bowed  in  a  somewhat 
dazed  manner,  and  with  a  lack  of  spontaneous 
acknowledgment,  of  which  he  was  painfully 
conscious. 

It  was  several  moments  before  he  made  out, 
definitely,  his  mistake,  and  the  wilful  way  in 
which  Bertie  had  kept  him  in  ignorance  of  it. 
Since  Linton  was  taking  the  situation  with 
an  easy  nonchalance  which  would  have  made 
an  explanation  preposterous,  there  was  nothing 
for  him  to  do  but  to  brace  up,  and  make  the 
best  of  his  awkard  entrance  and  his  discomfited 
manner,  which  it  irritated  him  to  feel  must 
have  appeared  boorish  in  the  extreme. 

What  had  he  said,  anyhow  ?  Bertram  had 
introduced  him,  in  a  light  and  airy  way,  as  the 
man  who  was  responsible  for  the  Will  of  the 
Wisp;  and  she — she  had  uttered  some  cour- 
teous expression  of  pleasure,  and  polite  appre- 
ciation of  his  book,  which  he  had  received  with 


74  As  Having  Nothing 

absolute,  idiotic  vacancy,  and  lack  of  response. 
But  this  was  worse  than  ever  !  He  must  wait 
until  he  got  out  of  the  studio  before  trying 
to  recall  it  all.  He  pulled  himself  together, 
and  observed  that  the  other  two  were  talking 
lightly,  after  the  usual  fashion  of  people  who 
know  each  other  in  a  pleasantly  superficial  way, 
and  with  a  rather  marked  avoidance  of  him, 
which  he  felt  to  be  utterly  mistaken  kindness. 
"  I  am  so  glad  to  have  this  pleasure,  Miss 
Wallace,"  Dodge  said,  opening  his  mouth 
for  the  first  time,  and  voicing  this  extremely 
commonplace  remark  in  a  tone  which  could 
scarcely  fail  to  sound  unusually  distinct  and 
mechanical,  after  his  previous  silence.  Miss 
Wallace  turned  towards  him,  her  large,  hazel 
eyes,  which  looked  a  clear  amber  at  the  mo- 
ment, scrutinizing  him  with  a  frankly  puzzled, 
and  yet  indifferent  air,  which  piqued  him  unac- 
countably. He  felt  a  strong  desire  to  say  or 
do  something  original ;  but  one  is  shackled  hor- 
ribly by  the  conventionalities  at  times,  and  this 
was  one  of  them.  It  seemed  to  Dodge  that 


A  False  Start  75 

he  was  hopelessly  caged  in  the  commonplace. 
His  next  remark  proved  it. 

"Your work  delighted  me  so.  It  so  exactly 
expressed  my  own  ideas."  Worse  and  worse  ! 
Could  anything  be  more  hopelessly  egotistical 
than  to  allow  his  praise  of  her  work  to  rest  on 
the  fact  that  it  had  appreciated  his  ?  The  man 
felt  a  disproportionate  rage  growing  within 
him,  and  was  conscious  that  a  heat,  which  was 
.not  fully  accounted  for  by  the  weather,  showed 
itself  upon  his  countenance.  He  had  an  insane 
desire  to  fling  angry  words  at  Bertie,  and  see 
how  this  calm  young  woman  would  look,  and 
what  she  would  say  then.  But  just  at  that 
moment  Bertie  did  something  more  audacious 
than  anything  he  had  done  yet.  "  Well,  I 
must  be  off,"  he  observed,  genially.  "  I  am 
due  at  the  yacht  by  six,  and  have  something  to 
attend  to  first.  Besides,  I  know  you  two  peo- 
ple are  anxious  to  talk  over  the  book  and  draw- 
ings ;  and  I  think  that  it  is  a  matter  for  you  to 
settle  together,  before  I,  in  my  official  capacity 
of  proxy  publisher,  have  anything  to  say.  Good- 


76  As  Having  Nothing 

bye,  Miss  Wallace.  Shall  I  see  you  at  the 
Berkshires  next  month  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Miss  Wallace,  smilingly. 
"  I  shall  have  to  give  up  the  Berkshires  this 
summer.  It  would  be  superfluous  to  wish  you 
a  delightful  time,  for  you  are  sure  to  have  it 
with  the  Everetts." 

"  I  am  awfully  sorry.  I  hoped  so  much 
that  you  would  conclude  to  go.  Then  it  is 
good-bye  for  some  time,  I  am  afraid,  for  I  sha'n't 
be  in  town  again  till  July,  and  then  you  will  be 
away,  will  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  at  all,  Mr.  Linton,  but  I 
think  we  shall  stay  in  town  as  long  as  it  is 
endurable.  I  have  a  good  deal  of  work  on 
hand,"  the  girl  ended,  with  a  proud  little  lift- 
ing of  her  chin,  which  bespoke  self-reliance 
in  every  line. 

"  Ah,  then  I  shall  look  forward  to  seeing  you 
then  !  "  cried  Linton,  in  a  pleased  voice,  which 
Calvert  noted  irritably.  Why  did  n't  the  beg- 
gar go,  if  he  was  going,  and  end  the  social 
situation  !  He  felt,  now  that  he  had  been 


A  False  Start  77 

forced  into  a  t$te-a-t$te  with  this  unattractive 
girl,  he  would  make  it  purely  a  business  one, 
and  be  over  with  it  as  soon  as  possible.  Of 
all  cowardly  tricks,  this  was  the  most  cowardly 
—to  play  a  practical  joke,  and  then  run  away, 
instead  of  seeing  it  out  and  taking  a  man's 
revenge  like  a  gentleman  ! 

Linton  turned  cheerfully  to  Dodge,  and 
held  out  a  friendly  hand.  "  Good-bye,  Cal- 
vert,"  he  said,  cordially.  "  Don't  work  too 
hard,  old  man — and  do  try  and  keep  cool  this 
summer,"  he  added,  feathering  his  last  shaft 
in  the  tone  of  a  parting  benediction. 

The  door  closed  after  him,  and  author  and 
illustrator  were  finally  left  alone.  Elizabeth 
was  irritated  too,  in  the  same  unaccountable 
way.  She  had  read  this  man's  book  with  a 
genuine  enjoyment,  taking  a  strangely  familiar 
pleasure  in  its  quaint  touches  of  humor,  and 
the  delicate  fancy  that  flashed  with  the  il- 
lusive glamour  of  a  summer  aurora  across  its 
pages.  Instinctively,  she  had  felt  drawn  to- 
wards the  author  without  having  seen  him  ; 


78  As  Having  Nothing 

and  she  had  had,  too,  a  distinct  desire  to  meet 
a  man  who  could  write  so  appreciatively  about 
a  character  which  she  had  long  loved  and  pas- 
sionately admired  in  her  dearest  friend.  She 
had  unconsciously  imagined  that  he  would  be 
one  who  would  show  this  delicacy  of  sentiment, 
and  capacity  for  sympathetic  character-delinea- 
tion, in  his  bearing.  But  this  man — this  tall, 
awkward,  hostile-looking  creature,  who  had 
praised  her  work  in  such  a  self-satisfied  way — 
how  could  she  ever  have  been  misled  into  con- 
necting him,  in  any  way,  with  her  dainty, 
refined,  peerless  little  Joan  ? 

Now  as  she  closed  the  door,  and  turned  to- 
wards her  unwelcome  visitor,  there  was  in  her 
face  a  little  wearied  expression  which  smote 
something  deeper  than  Calvert's  mind  with  a 
sense  of  injustice  ;  and  a  quick  wish  to  tell  her 
of  his  mistake,  and  set  himself  straight  in  those 
bored  eyes,  rose  within  him.  But  he  stifled  it 
as  too  undignified,  picturing  to  himself  what 
a  raw,  school-boyish  ring  the  whole  story 
would  have.  Elizabeth  broke  what  threatened 


A  False  Start  79 

to  be  an  awkward  pause  with  a  business-like 
ease,  which  was  at  once  a  relief  and  a  renewed 
irritation  to  the  man  who  had  just  determined 
that  their  interview  should  be  confined  to  that 
very  key. 

"  You  wish  to  speak  to  me  about  the  illus- 
trations ? "  she  said  questioningly,  reaching 
toward  a  little  bookcase,  and  taking  from  its 
top  shelf  a  bulky  envelope  which  contained 
proof-sheets.  "  Was  there  something  you 
wished  to  suggest  in  those  I  have  already 
done. — some  alteration  ?  Or  was  it  something 
about  the  two  I  have  not  yet  begun  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  nothing  in  the  least — "  protested 
Calvert,  miserably.  What  hatefully  insuffer- 
able finikyness  she  must  have  credited  him 
with  !  How  absurdly  inadequate  the  sugges- 
tion he  had  intended  to  make  would  seem  to 
her  now,  when  she  would  probably  view  it  only 
as  a  presuming  lack  of  confidence  in  her  own 
judgment,  which  had  been  so  admirably  dis- 
played in  the  case  of  what  she  had  already 
done. 


8o  As  Having  Nothing 

Elizabeth  raised  her  dark  eyebrows.  "  I 
thought — "  she  began,  while  a  wonder  crept 
into  her  mind  as  to  the  identity  of  this  curious 
individual,  who  did  not  appear  to  have  mind 
enough  to  carry  on  an  intelligent  conversation, 
much  less  conceive  of  a  book  like  The  Will  of 
the  Wisp. 

The  situation  was  really  growing  desperate. 
Calvert,  figuratively,  shut  his  eyes,  and  plunged 
into  deep  water,  expecting  to  butt  his  head  on 
a  rock  at  first  venture.  To  his  surprise,  how- 
ever, he  found  himself  striking  out  masterfully  ; 
and  upborne  on  delightfully,  buoyantly  refresh- 
ing waves  of  self-respect.  "  Why,  it  was  just 
this,"  he  began  quickly ;  "  I  came  up  from 
Cuba  last  week  to  find  the  proofs  of  the  illus- 
trations which  you  have  made  so  far  waiting 
for  me.  Before  I  went,  the  question  of  illus- 
tration had  not  been  settled,  and  I  cannot  tell 
you  what  delight  the  pictures  gave  me.  I 
assure  you,  Miss  Wallace,  it  seemed  to  me 
perfectly  extraordinary,  the  way  in  which  you 
have  gone  beyond  me  in  fulfilling,  and  more 


A  False  Start  81 

than  completing,  my  fragmentary  attempt  to 
portray  scenes  and  characters.  I  can't  tell  you 
how  greatly  I  admire  your  work, — its  force, 
and  simplicity,  and  grace  of  suggestion.  Most 
of  all  was  I  pleased  with  the  points  that 
you  have  chosen  to  bring  out.  For  by  your 
choice,  it  seems  to  me  that  you  have  strength- 
ened and  illumined  the  text  in  such  a  wonder- 
ful way.  And  then,  on  thinking  this  over,  it 
suddenly  occurred  to  me  that  there  was  one 
situation  in  the  very  last  of  the  book.  Not 
the  culminating  one, — a  situation,  indeed, 
which  scarcely  anyone  would  think  important, 
but  in  which  I  had  hidden  a  thought  that,  if 
brought  out  by  your  art,  would  quicken  the 
life  of  the  whole  book.  I  was  very  much  of 
a  doubting  Thomas  to  fear,  after  what  you 
have  done,  that  your  judgment  would  not  be, 
perhaps,  even  wiser  than  mine  for  the  last 
picture  ;  but  you  must  try  to  forgive  it  as  the 
inevitably  doting  affection  a  man  has  for  cer- 
tain thoughts,  which  he  believes  peculiarly  his 
own.  I  thought  I  should  like  at  least  to  tell 


82  As  Having  Nothing 

you  how  I  enjoyed  what  you  have  done ;  and 
how  grateful  I  am  for  the  sympathetic  co-oper- 
ation you  have  so  generously  given  me  in  the 
very  simple  little  story." 

Bravo  !  He  had  done  well.  It  was  some- 
what flowery,  perhaps ;  but  he  really  meant 
the  appreciation  of  her  work,  and  that  must  at 
least  ring  true.  He  stopped,  and  waited 
anxiously  for  Miss  Wallace  to  speak.  From 
the  moment  that  he  had  entered  the  room,  in 
his  embarrassment,  he  had  completely  forgot- 
ten his  prime  object  in  seeking  out  the  artist 
who  had  interpreted  his  ideal  so  cleverly. 

Now  it  came  back  with  a  rush.  Could  it 
have  been  because,  while  he  had  been  speaking, 
the  same  thought  had  come  so  strongly  into 
Elizabeth  Wallace's  mind  ?  As  soon  as  he  had 
mentioned  her  interpretation  of  his  characters, 
the  explanation  had  flashed  into  her  head  of 
all  this  oddness.  That  was  it,  how  stupid  ! 
Of  course  that  explained  the  whole  thing, — 
visit,  embarrassment,  and  all.  Why  had  it 
never  entered  her  head  that  the  substantiation 


A  False  Start  83 

of  his  conception  of  the  Wisp  would,  in  turn, 
re-act  upon  the  man  who  wrote  the  book,  and 
take  hold  of  his  imagination  with  the  same 
uncanny  strangeness  ?  Of  course  he  would 
not  fancy  for  a  moment,  that  the  choice  of  a 
model  had  been  anything  but  accidental,  which 
would  make  the  coincidence  appear  even  more 
extraordinary.  Of  course  he  felt  embarrassed 
in  speaking  of  this.  Poor  man  !  Though  she 
could  not  do  anything  but  pity  him,  she  did 
certainly  do  that — "the  moth  and  the  star!" 
— Poor  man  !  She  would  be  kind  to  him, 
nice  to  him,  and  interested  of  course.  She 
did  not  even  hear  his  complimentary  remarks, 
so  engrossed  was  she  in  fitting  this  brilliant 
fancy  of  hers  into  the  situation. 

With  no  slightest  clue  to  this  train  of 
thought  passing  so  swiftly  through  the  girl's 
head,  it  was  small  wonder  that  her  manner, 
when  she  spoke,  was  a  surprise  to  Calvert 
Dodge.  There  was  a  distinct  note  of  friendli- 
ness in  her  voice ;  and  into  the  hazel  eyes 
there  had  come  a  something  more  human, 


84  As  Having  Nothing 

which  seemed  to  recognize  his  claim  to  be 
considered  in  other  light  than  that  of  an  un- 
welcome, ungainly  necessity,  who  had  to  be 
interviewed,  however  distasteful  the  interview 
might  be. 

"  I  am  so  very  glad  to  talk  the  pictures  over 
with  you,"  she  said  brightly.  "  I  have  often 
wanted  to  do  so.  This  one,  in  the  old  mill, 
now.  They  have  sent  me  back  my  originals, 
you  see — was  n't  it  good  of  them  ? "  She  drew 
out  of  a  portfolio,  as  she  spoke,  one  of  the 
first  illustrations  she  had  made, — a  young  girl, 
kneeling  on  the  floor  of  an  old,  weather-beaten 
mill-room,  through  which  just  one  bar  of  sun- 
light crept,  bringing  out  the  listening  attitude 
of  her  head,  and  the  happiness  of  her  face, 
hidden  from  view  of  one  below,  and  therefore 
free  to  express  its  gladness  at  a  voice  which 
came  to  her  between  the  rushing  of  the  water, 
invisible  beneath.  "  I  hesitated  so  long  about 
this  one,"  said  Elizabeth.  "  I  did  n't  know 
whether  to  take  this  minute,  when  he  surprises 
her,  up  in  the  old  mill,  or  the  one  a  little  later — 


A  False  Start  85 

when  they  are  together,  after  he  has  helped 
her  down.  But  I  thought  this  was  better, 
before  they  had  met,  when  she  gloried  in  the 
darkness,  and  the  fact  that  she  could  show  her 
pleasure  unseen." 

As  she  spoke,  there  was  a  lilting,  sympa- 
thetic joy  in  Elizabeth's  voice — which  had 
that  rare  quality  of  reflecting  an  emotion  de- 
scribed— and  Calvert  answered  enthusiastically, 
"That  was  the  only  point  to  choose,  Miss 
Wallace.  And  how  much  more  beautiful  your 
original  is  than  the  proof.  What  a  shame 
that  the  pictures  have  to  be  reduced  so  greatly  ! 
This  makes  me  long  for  an  Edition  de  luxe. 
The  illustrations  certainly  deserve  it ;  and  you 
have  barely  suggested  a  color-scheme  in  this 
one  that  is  delicious — just  enough  to  intensify 
the  mellow,  plummy  gloom  of  the  old  build- 
ing, and  the  contrasting  radiance  of  sunlight. 
That  face  is  exquisite  !  I  cannot  imagine  a 
face  that  would  more  perfectly  typify  the  idea 
which  I  had  in  mind  for  the  Wisp.  It  is 
extraordinary ! " 


86  As  Having  Nothing 

He  was  studying  it  with  an  intentness  of 
interest  and  eager  scrutiny,  which  seemed  to 
find  each  detail  complete ;  and  Elizabeth 
watched  him  in  turn,  with  a  growing  curiosity. 
Her  sense  of  form  and  shape,  and  her  knowl- 
edge of  what  every  portion  of  the  human  frame 
should  be,  made  her  keenly  alive  to  its  harmo- 
nies or  discords,  its  successes  and  its  failures. 
She  decided  now  in  an  impartial  way,  that 
one  must  call  this  man  before  her  a  success, 
as  a  whole  ;  although  a  certain  squareness  and 
eccentric  bumpiness  of  outline  made  his  head 
more  of  a  fugue  than  a  continuous  melody,  or 
a  single  harmonious  chord.  It  was  interest- 
ing, though,  especially  about  the  high  temples, 
where  there  was  suggested  a  sensitive  thought- 
fulness  that  affected  her  as  pure  pathos ;  al- 
though the  next  quick  glance  at  his  mouth 
aroused  a  spirit  of  obstinacy  in  her  at  once. 
A  man  with  a  mouth  like  that  would  be  too 
dictatorial,  too  masterful.  But  he  was  inter- 
esting ;  decidedly  interesting  as  a  type — yes, 
and  possibly,  as  a  man.  What  was  the  thought 


A  False  Start  87 

that  made  the  vein  in  his  temple  throb  so,  she 
wondered.  He  must  have  put  his  soul  into 
that  character  of  the  Wisp  to  be  so  moved, 
at  first,  out  of  the  self-possession  which  seemed 
now  his  natural  manner.  For  the  sake  of 
that  brow  and  the  friendliness  she  already  felt 
for  it,  she  would  satisfy  his  unspoken  query 
about  the  pictute. 

"  Is  n't  it  good?"  she  smiled,  responsively. 
"  I  thought  you  would  think  so  !  The  girl 
who  posed  for  that  is  a  friend  of  mine, — my 
best  friend.  Do  you  know,"  with  a  quick 
impulse  of  truthfulness,  as  his  eyes  were 
turned  with  a  frank  interest  to  hers,  "it  is  the 
most  curious  thing ;  but  you  have  described 
her,  without  knowing  her,  more  perfectly  than 
I  could  do  to-day — I,  who  have  known  her 
always.  You  have  put  into  adequate  words 
all  that  I  have  felt,  vaguely,  about  her,  this 
long  time — have  crystallized  the  charm  she 
has  always  had  for  me,  in  that  book  of  yours." 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  Calvert  asked  quickly.  He 
had  divined  at  once,  that  this  strange  girl  had 


88  As  Having  Nothing 

fathomed  his  motive;  and  without^ actually 
formulating  the  thought,  he  felt  that  he  would 
never  dream  of  trying  to  disguise  it  from  her. 
Moreover,  that  he  did  not  mind  her  knowing 
in  the  slightest — as,  for  instance,  he  would 
have  shrunk  from  letting  Linton  guess  at  his 
fanciful  dream.  This  strange  sharing  of  it 
with  the  one  who  had  made  the  realization  of 
it  possible  did  not  tarnish  it  in  the  least. 
Rather,  her  understanding  of  the  curious  coin- 
cidence made  it  all  the  more  fascinating. 

"  Her  name  is  Joan  Whetmore,"  answered 
Elizabeth,  smiling  a  little,  "and  she  is  a  New 
York  girl.  She  has  been  so  dear  about  the 
posing  and  has  helped  me  so  much.  You 
must  meet  her  some  day.  It  would  be  inter- 
esting, would  it  not  ?  " 

Their  eyes  met,  and  they  both  laughed  a 
little,  with  a  curious  sensation  of  a  fellowship 
that  needed  no  words.  "  What  part  was  it  you 
spoke  of  for  the  last  illustration  ?  Was  it  this, 
I  wonder  ?  "  and  turning  the  pages  over  quickly, 
she  picked  out  one,  and  laid  her  finger  against 


A  False  Start  89 

the  sentence.  Their  eyes  met  again.  "  You 
are  a  witch ! "  he  cried,  with  an  involuntary 
wonder,  which  held,  however,  no  tinge  of  un- 
due familiarity.  "How  did  you  know  ?" 

"  '  By  the  pricking  in  my  thumbs,'  I  sup- 
pose," the  girl  laughed,  lightly.  "  Oh,  it  was 
nothing.  Anyone  who  reads  the  book  compre- 
hendingly  must  be  struck  with  the  bearing 
which  that  little  trivial  moment  had  on  all  that 
went  before,  all  that  came  after.  It  was  the 
unguessed  turning-point ;  and  it  was  so  much 
more  artistic  to  treat  it  in  the  quiet  manner 
you  did,  instead  of  calling  attention  to  a  thing 
which  I  suppose  even  she  never  realized  to  her 
dying  day." 

He  noticed  her  words.  Taking  the  people 
for  granted,  carrying  them  on,  in  imagination, 
far  beyond  the  covers  of  the  book.  That  was 
the  way  he  always  felt  about  characters  he 
really  loved  in  books.  Others  might  be  clever, 
interesting,  amusing,  but  one  shut  them  in 
when  one  shut  the  book.  They  never  lived  on 
about  one  as  friends,  as  sentient,  alive  crea- 


90  As  Having  Nothing 

tures.  "  That  's  just  as  I  felt  about  it,"  he 
said  slowly.  "  I  am  glad  you  understood.  If 
I  could  hope  for  only  a  few  such  sympathetic 
readers,  the  little  book  might  not  be  launched 
for  nothing." 

"  It  will  not  be  launched  for  nothing.  There 
is  truth  in  it ;  and  thought,  simply  and  yet 
powerfully  expressed.  That  is  never  given  to 
the  world  in  vain."  Elizabeth  spoke  quickly, 
and  with  a  throb  of  generous  encouragement 
in  her  heart  and  voice. 

Calvert,  more  touched  than  he  really  under- 
stood, turned  toward  the  picture  again  ;  and 
Elizabeth  felt  instantly  and  vividly  the  wide 
gulf  between  herself  and  the  girl  who  was  the 
ideal  of  his  brain.  A  realization  which  brought 
with  it  the  quick  sensation  of  self-dissatisfac- 
tion, self-hatred,  which  had  so  strongly  assailed 
her  in  the  park,  the  other  day,  on  comparing 
herself  with  Joan. 

When  Calvert  turned  again,  the  old,  indif- 
ferent expression  had  come  back  to  her  eyes, 
and  her  chin  was  lifted  in  the  hostile  way  it 


A  False  Start  91 

had  when  Elizabeth  was  conscious  of  any 
shortcoming  or  weakness  in  herself,  and  in- 
trenched herself  behind  the  impenetrable  bar- 
rier of  reserve  which  sometimes  made  people 
misjudge  her  so  cruelly.  The  man  felt  the 
difference  ;  and  after  asking  and  receiving  per- 
mission to  call  again,  he  said  good-afternoon, 
and  left  the  studio  promptly,  his  mind  in  a  sort 
of  whirl,  in  the  centre  of  which  he  thought  he 
could  distinguish  only  one  desire  clearly — the 
desire  to  meet  and  know  the  girl  who  had 
posed  for  the  central,  Ariel-like  figure  of  his 
book. 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN    LIGHTEST    LENOX 

"  Yet  the  day  wears, 
And  door  succeeds  door  ; 
I  try  the  fresh  fortune — 

****** 
Still  the  same  chance  !  she  goes  out  as  I  enter." 

TEN  days  later  Calvert  received  the  proof 
of  his  last  picture.  In  some  respects, 
it  was  the  best  of  all ;  and  he  could  not  help 
congratulating  himself  upon  the  moment  they 
had  chosen  to  portray.  As  he  had  said,  it 
threw  a  vivid  ray  of  light  upon  the  whole 
book.  In  it  the  Wisp  was  more  attractive 
than  ever,  with  a  wistful  questioning  in  her 
face  that  appealed  strongly  to  the  man  who 
felt  such  an  odd  sense  of  possession  as  he 

looked  into  the  pictured  eyes. 

92 


In  Lightest  Lenox  93 

Elizabeth  Wallace  had  been  partly  right, 
partly  wrong,  as  was  usually  the  case.  Calvert 
had  not  consciously  introduced  a  personal 
ideal  into  his  book ;  but  irritated  with  the 
cynical  society  twaddle  which  claimed  to  be 
considered  the  truth  and  nothing  but  the 
truth,  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  prove,  if  he 
could,  that  this  need  not  be  the  whole  truth ; 
and  to  draw,  as  conscientiously  as  possible, 
the  gradually  weakening  effect  of  a  worldly 
environment  and  influence  of  the  most  pro- 
nounced kind  upon  an  inherently  true,  clear- 
minded,  pure-hearted  girl,  with  no  one  to  turn 
to  for  help  and  support  in  her  family,  among 
her  friends,  or  in  the  world  in  which  she  shone 
by  virtue  of  her  quick-witted  tact  and  love  of 
fun,  when  the  one  man  who  understood  her 
came  into  her  life.  A  man  with  nothing  to 
recommend  him  but  his  love — neither  talent, 
nor  brilliant  business  ability,  nor  wealth — ab- 
solutely nothing  but  his  love  and  goodness 
and  infinite  comprehension  of  her  worth  and 
higher  needs. 


94  As  Having  Nothing 

Although  his  minor  characters  had  been 
drawn  with  a  masterly  hand  by  one  who  had 
had  ample  opportunity  to  judge  of  the  hollow- 
ness  and  sham  of  those  who  seek  first  the  flesh- 
pots,  and  their  own  superficial  gratification, 
there  had  been  a  lack  of  that  caustic,  personal 
bitterness,  which  always  suggests  either  a  shut- 
out spite,  or  a  clever  snobbishness  in  so  many 
books  which  deal  with  such  topics.  These 
had  been  treated  merely  as  a  background  for 
that  one  natural,  lovable  figure, — the  girl  who 
appreciated  the  flesh-pots  and  social  refine- 
ments from  instinct  and  training,  and  yet 
abdicated  them,  at  the  last,  for  a  love  the 
value  of  which  was  apparent  to  no  one  who 
had  previously  influenced  her  life. 

That  he  had  never  known  such  a  girl  was 
true,  for  he  had  known  few  women  intimately  ; 
and,  as  a  rule,  he  had  preferred  to  study  those 
whom  he  met,  quietly,  from  the  middle  distance, 
where  one  can  judge  with  greater  clearness  of 
vision  and  discrimination,  than  when  so  close 
as  to  be  misled  by  the  personal  equation, 


In  Lightest  Lenox  95 

Once  in  a  while,  eyes  that  he  saw  in  the  crush 
of  some  crowded  ballroom,  or  in  the  luxurious 
depths  of  an  opera-box,  had  appealed  to  this 
chivalrous,  intuitive  side  of  his  nature  very 
strongly.  Eyes  whose  habitual  expression  was 
relaxed,  and  which  seemed  to  be,  in  an  absent 
moment,  seeking  for  comprehension  and  help 
in  the  real  life  for  which  they  longed,  but  which 
they  could  not  lead  in  this  atmosphere  to 
which  they  had  been  born ;  eyes  which  had 
the  look  of  watching  unconsciously  for  some- 
one who  could  persuade  them  to  give  it  all  up 
for  a  hardier,  open-air  life,  in  a  world  beyond 
their  exclusive,  little,  hothouse  world.  Before 
this  instinct  could  actually  be  formulated,  the 
moment  had  passed,  the  expression  was  fled ; 
and  he  had  metaphorically  rubbed  his  eyes, 
and  wondered  if  he  had  not  been  a  romantic 
idiot  in  the  case  under  consideration.  But  the 
impression  remained,  nevertheless.  His  heart 
became  gradually  full  of  pity  for  this  class  of 
women,  which  he  was  sure  existed ;  and  he 
often  wondered  hotly,  what  fatal  superstition 


96  As  Having  Nothing 

held  them  bound  as  cruelly  as  the  effete  and 
more  material  superstitions  which  bound  the 
women  of  the  past,  and  which  have  been  rup- 
tured, one  by  one,  as  the  years  have  gone 
by.  What  is  this  mysterious  Moloch  of  ar- 
bitrary custom  ?  Whence  its  deadly  power  ? 
The  courage  of  one's  convictions  in  great 
things  is  easy,  alas !  It  is  the  small,  petty 
nothings  of  every  day,  the  thousand  and  one 
superficial  little  laws  which  custom  has  laid 
down  for  us,  that  we  cannot  make  up  our  minds 
to  override.  Our  feet  are  tangled  hopelessly 
in  the  fine  mesh  of  social  red-tape  which  has 
been  woven,  hour  by  hour,  and  minute  by 
minute,  about  us  from  the  cradle, — a  mesh  of 
trifles  light  as  air,  but  so  strong  a  cable  that 
originality,  individuality,  is  often  hopelessly 
confined  by  it,  and  growth  irrevocably  stunted. 
This  last  illustration  added  tenfold  to  Cal- 
vert's  impatience  to  meet  the  original,  and  dis- 
cover if  his  feeling  of  ownership  would  be  in- 
creased or  diminished.  The  same  afternoon, 
in  obedience  to  this  boyish  impulse,  and  an 


In  Lightest  Lenox  97 

unconfessed  desire  to  see  if  Miss  Wallace 
would  prove  as  unusually  intuitive  on  further 
acquaintance,  he  called  at  Fifty-fifth  Street. 

He  found  Elizabeth  deep  in  the  mysteries 
of  a  cover  design,  destined  to  adorn  a  summer 
number  of  some  small,  unfamous  magazine,  an 
arrangement  in  soft  greens  and  browns,  which 
suggested  the  cool  boskiness  of  the  woods  in 
a  tempting  way.  She  was  clad  in  a  long,  un- 
bleached linen  apron,  which  reached  from  her 
head  to  her  heals  in  a  sort  of  smocked  effect, 
which  gave  her  a  very  youthful  appearance.  It 
was  decorated,  with  a  careless  indifference,  in 
dabs  and  splashes  from  her  eager  paint-brushes 
which  could  never  learn  to  behave  themselves 
properly,  and  remember  to  wipe  themselves  on 
the  clean  cloths  intended  for  them,  which  Mrs. 
Wallace  supplied,  faithfully  and  periodically, 
for  that  purpose. 

She  greeted  him  with  an  abstracted  dignity, 
which  seemed  quite  unconscious  of  the  smocked 
shroud  and  its  variegated  stains.  "  I  must 
finish  this  to  be  packed  at  four,"  she  said,  in 


98  As  Having  Nothing 

explanation  of  the  huge  palette  on  her  left  arm. 
"  There  is  only  a  little  more  to  do.  Will  you 
excuse  me  if  I  go  on  with  it  while  we  talk? 
No  !  Not  that  chair  !  That  is  decrepit !  But 
the  couch  is  comfortable — if  you  take  it  grad- 
ually !  There  is  a  trifle  wrong  with  the  spring, 
but  it  is  very  comfortable  when  you  are  really 
settled." 

Calvert  risked  the  couch,  and  managed  to 
settle  himself  with  the  aid  of  two  pillows  which 
he  disposed  in  the  clumsy,  inefficient  way  men 
have  with  pillows  when  they  are  trying  to  make 
themselves  comfortable  in  polite  society. 
While  he  did  so,  Elizabeth  had  returned  to 
her  easel  at  which  she  worked  standing.  She 
moved  back  a  few  paces,  and  regarded  it  with 
a  long  glance  from  screwed-up  eyes  whose 
dreamingly  critical  expression  made  Calvert 
feel  as  if  she  had  forgotten  his  existence  alto- 
gether ;  and  he  coughed  slightly  to  assure  him- 
self that  he  was  really  awake,  and  being  ignored 
in  this  cursory  way. 

At   the   sound    Elizabeth    spoke,    without, 


In  Lightest  Lenox  99 

however,  removing  her  considering  eyes  from 
the  canvas.  "How  was  the  last  picture  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  Did  it  please  you  ?  Have  you  seen 
it?" 

"  Of  course  it  pleased  me.  You  must  fancy 
me  hard  to  satisfy  if  you  ask  that !  It 's  better 
than  all  the  rest,"  said  Calvert,  a  bit  testily. 
The  fact  that  he  wanted  to  ask  about  Miss 
Whetmore,  added  to  the  fact  that  he  did  not 
see  his  way  to  the  doing  of  it  easily,  made  him 
impatient.  He  felt  sure  that  Miss  Wallace's 
far-away,  judicial  eyes  would  look  very  much 
surprised,  in  a  coldly  polite  manner,  should  he 
state  his  wish  abruptly  ;  and  yet  he  had  a  vivid 
desire  to  see  them  turned  upon  him  with  some 
degree  of  personal  recognition,  even  if  it  were 
an  intolerant  one.  With  this  impulse  he  had 
just  reached  the  point  where  he  had  determined 
to  voice  his  request,  when  the  eyes  were  turned 
his  way,  with  a  momentary  expression  of  hu- 
morous appreciation  and  camaraderie  that 
made  them  very  attractive.  "  You  want  to 
meet  Miss  Whetmore,  do  you  not  ? "  she  said. 


ioo  As  Having  Nothing 

Calvert  laughed  boyishly.  "I  do ;  I  am 
wildly  curious.  I  admit  it  frankly.  What  is 
the  use  of  pretending  ? " 

"  None.  But  I  am  very  sorry  !  It 's  impos- 
sible yet  awhile.  She  went  away  this  morn- 
ing." 

Dodge  sat  up  straight.  The  propping  pil- 
lows slipped  down,  and  he  clutched  for  them 
awkwardly.  "  Gone ! "  he  echoed. 

"  Yes.  They  left  to-day  for  the  Berkshires. 
It 's  too  bad.  I  had  hoped  to  ask  you  to  tea  to- 
gether, some  afternoon  before  she  left ;  but  she 
was  so  busy  these  last  few  days.  Never  mind  ! 
It  is  only  putting  it  off  a  bit."  Elizabeth  felt 
genuinely  sorry  for  this  man  with  the  frank 
gray  eyes,  and  the  habitual,  rumpled  toss  of  hair 
at  the  temples,  that  betrayed  impatient  thought 
and  fingers.  Was  he  taking  it  very  much  to 
heart,  she  wondered,  with  her  quick  sympathy 
for  any  least  thing  which  she  knew,  or  fancied, 
to  be  disappointed.  Elizabeth  secretly  hated  a 
disappointment  more  than  anything  on  earth. 
This  same  inordinate  imagination  of  hers  made 


In  Lightest  Lenox  101 

things  so  real  to  her  that  her  future  became 
insensibly  as  actual  as  her  past ;  and  it  seemed 
just  as  much  of  a  shock  to  her  that  her  antici- 
pation should  play  her  false,  as  her  memory. 

"  'T  was  ever  thus  ! "  ejaculated  Dodge  ; 
"  she  's  to  be  gone  all  summer,  of  course  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Elizabeth,  feeling  like  Fate ;  "  the 
whole  family  will  be  in  Europe  all  summer, 
and  until  she  starts,  Joan  herself  is  to  be  with 
the  Everetts." 

"The  Everetts  who  have  a  place  at 
Lenox  ?  " 

"  Yes,  do  you  know  them  ?" 

"  Only  Bob, — but  he  and  I  were  good 
friends  at  college,  and  he  wrote  and  asked  me 
to  run  up  any  time  this  summer,  only  a  week 
ago.  I  have  n't  answered  the  letter  yet,  but 
by  Jove  ! — "  He  paused,  hopefully,  and  Eliza- 
beth caught  his  meaning  as  he  was  almost 
sure  she  would. 

"  Of  course  you  must  go  up  there,"  she  said, 
pleased  as  he  at  the  coincidence.  "  How 
things  seem  to  dove-tail  in  !  Why  don't  you 


102  As  Having  Nothing 

go  right  up  there  ?  It  will  be  such  a  fine 
chance  for  you  to  grow  to  know  each  other  in 
the  best  sort  of  an  informal  way." 

Grow  to  know  her  !  Somehow  that  was  a 
new  idea  to  Dodge,  whose  impulse  had 
stopped  short  at  the  meeting  point,  and  had 
never  gone  further,  and  imagined  a  resulting 
friendship.  He  felt  that  he  knew  her  already. 
There  could  be  no  surprises  in  this  girl  for 
him.  It  might  be  very  interesting  though. 
At  any  rate  he  was  curious  to  see  her ;  and  the 
instinct  of  the  baffled  to  carry  on  the  chase 
was  keen  upon  him.  "  That 's  what  I  '11  do," 
he  said,  decidedly.  "  Bob  said  there  was  to 
be  a  '  continuous  performance  of  house-parties 
all  summer  long.'  And  that  I  would  '  fit  into 
the  show'  whenever  I  could  get  off.  He 
writes  such  a  characteristic  letter !  You  know 
him,  don't  you,  Miss  Wallace  ?  I  thought  I 
heard  you  say  something  about  them  to  Lin- 
ton  the  other  day." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  them  all.  They  spent 
two  winters  in  Italy  when  we  were  there.  I 


In  Lightest  Lenox  103 

am  very  fond  of  Bob.  He  is  a  harum-scarum, 
is  n't  he  ?  We  got  lost  on  Vesuvius  once  to- 
gether, and  I  remember  what  a  joke  he  made 
of  the  whole  affair ;  and  how,  after  burning  his 
hand  with  some  lava  in  helping  me  climb,  he 
said  he  hoped  I  'd  pardon  his  having  had  a 
'  drop  of  the  crater  !  ' 

They  both  laughed  with  a  common  relish 
of  a  personality  which  enriched  even  such  a 
bald-faced  pun. 

"  He  is  always  up  to  his  old  tricks,"  Calvert 
said.  "  He  went  on  to  say  in  his  note,  that 
if  I  were  a  golfer  I  'd  be  in  heaven  at  Lenox, 
as  life  there  was  '  linked  sweetness  long  drawn 
out '  just  now  ! " 

"  I  can  imagine  how  he  would  revel  in  the 
costume  ! "  added  Elizabeth.  "  He  always  did 
love  clothes !  and  I  never  knew  which  I  'd  find 
in  the  drawing-room  when  he  was  announced 
— a  Piccadilly  swell,  a  picturesque  Italian,  or  a 
rough-and-ready  Scottish  sportsman." 

"He  always  had  a  mine  of  cravats  at  col- 
lege. The  fellows  found  it  out  pretty  soon 


104  As  Having  Nothing 

and  worked  the  vein  for  all  they  were  worth, 
of  course  ;  but  that  is  another  thing  about 
Bob,  he  is  the  most  good-natured,  generous 
soul  in  the  world,"  heartily. 

"  Indeed  he  is,"  said  Elizabeth,  her  eyes  and 
voice  softening  tenderly  ;  "  I  shall  never  forget 
how  he  helped  us,  when  father — "  she  paused 
abruptly,  and  added,  with  a  brisk  change  of 
voice,  "  When  shall  you  start  ?  " 

Dodge  was  conscious  of  a  slight  shock.  He 
had  actually  forgotten  for  the  moment  that 
he  was  going,  in  the  brief  revelation  of  wom- 
anliness that  had  affected  him  with  the  feel- 
ing one  has  when  a  cloud  lifts  suddenly  on  a 
mountain-top,  and  instead  of  the  bare,  lonely 
heights,  a  grateful  glimpse  of  cultivated  herb- 
age, filled  with  the  influence  of  human  love 
and  care,  is  seen.  One  feels,  in  such  an  in- 
stant, closer  to  these  suddenly  revealed,  sim- 
ple-hearted dwellers  on  the  heights,  than  to 
the  many  who  swarm  so  openly  and  close  to 
us  below. 

"  Eh  ?     Oh,  the  sooner  the  better,   I  sup- 


In  Lightest  Lenox  105 

pose !  I  wish  you  were  going,  too,  Miss 
Wallace,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden  tightening  at 
his  heart ;  for  a  lively  remembrance  of  the  way 
this  girl  had  intimated  to  Bertram  that  her 
summer  was  to  be  spent  had  flashed  across 
him.  But  the  cloud  had  shut  down  close 
again  ;  or  else  he  had  seen  only  a  mirage. 

Miss  Wallace  answered  quietly,  and  rather 
incredulously,  Dodge  fancied,  "  Thank  you, 
but  it  is  out  of  the  question." 

How  tall  she  was,  how  tall  and  erect !  The 
very  lift  of  her  resolute  chin  made  her  seem 
taller.  How  infinitely  more  he  had  always 
admired  little,  fragile,  light-haired  women, 
thought  Calvert,  with  a  feeling  of  sudden  wrath, 
perfectly  unconscious  of  the  trend  of  mind 
which  had  caused  this  sudden  stiffening  of  the 
girl  before  him,  and  which  was  perhaps,  as 
much  as  anything,  again  a  swift,  indefinite 
measuring  of  herself  beside  the  girl  of  his 
dreams,  whom  this  man  was  to  see  so  soon 
realized  in  the  person  of  Joan  Whetmore. 

A  few  minutes  later  Calvert  took  his  leave ; 


io6  As  Having  Nothing 

and  moved  by  a  strange,  unusual  restlessness 
which  increased  steadily,  at  the  end  of  the 
week  he  threw  a  few  things  into  his  dress-suit 
case,  wired  to  Bob  Everett,  and  started  for 
Lenox  the  following  morning,  Friday. 

He  arrived  there  about  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  ;  and  as  he  stepped  from  the  train, 
he  caught  sight  upon  the  platform  of  two  fa- 
miliar faces,  Bertram  Linton's  and  Bob  Ever- 
ett's, among  a  gay  crowd  of  dainty  gowns  and 
golf  knickerbockers. 

Bob  saw  him  first  and  spoke  to  Bertram  ; 
and  both  men  darted  forward  with  unmistak- 
able pleasure  on  their  faces.  "  So  glad  to  see 
you,  old  chap  !  This  is  what  I  call  white,  to 
take  me  up  like  this.  Come  over,  and  meet 
the  crowd,"  said  Bob  enthusiastically.  And  in 
another  minute,  Dodge  found  himself  bowing 
right  and  left  to  the  confused,  dissolving  view 
of  bright,  attractive  faces,  masculine  and  femi- 
nine ;  among  which  he  looked  in  vain  for  the 
Wisp  he  had  come  so  far  to  find. 

In  a  few  minutes  all  who  were  not  athletic 


In  Lightest  Lenox  107 

enough  to  feel  like  walking  the  five  miles  home, 
were  disposed  among  the  various  buckboards 
and  carts  in  waiting  amid  the  crowd  of  summer 
vehicles.  Calvert  found  himself  dealt  into  the 
back  seat  of  a  three-seated  buckboard  beside 
a  very  sprightly  damsel  indeed,  who  began  to 
talk  at  once  an  endless  chatter  of  nonsense, 
with  an  intimate  familiarity  which  Dodge 
would  have  found  a  bore,  if  it  had  not  been 
too  amusing  to  one  who  was  ever  on  the  look- 
out for  types. 

Up  to  now  he  had  been  consumed  with  a 
secret  wonder  as  to  why  they  had  all  been 
waiting  at  the  station.  Surely  it  could  not 
have  been  to  welcome  him.  His  natural  mod- 
esty shrank  from  putting  such  a  flattering, 
personal  interpretation  upon  the  warm  and 
wholesale  greeting  he  had  received ;  and  yet, 
apparently,  no  one  else  whom  they  knew  had 
come  up  on  his  train.  Now,  however,  his 
companion  enlightened  him. 

"  You  are  just  too  late  ! "  she  informed  him 
gaily.  "  The  prettiest  girl  in  Lenox  left  on 


io8  As  Having  Nothing 

the  train  which  went  out  as  yours  came  in. 
We  all  came  down  to  see  her  off ;  and  she  went 
away  buried  under  flowers  and  books.  '  The 
Queen  is  dead, — long  live  the  King  ! '  "  she 
ended,  with  a  daring  little  glance  at  Calvert 
from  the  corners  of  two  bright,  vivacious  black 
eyes. 

"Indeed?"  Calvert  felt  very  indifferent; 
and  utterly  unprepared  for  the  denouement  in 
store  for  him.  But  he  had  a  laudable  wish  to 
make  himself  agreeable.  "  And  who  is  the 
Queen  ?  " 

"Joan  Whetmore,  of  course;  the  dearest 
thing  in  the  world ! "  gushingly.  "  The  men 
were  all  at  her  feet,  and  there  was  small  chance 
for  the  rest  of  us,  I  assure  you,  while  she  was 
here.  It  will  be  interesting,  however,  to  see 
what  you  will  do.  Before  this,  it  was  a  fore- 
gone conclusion  that  every  new  man  would  be 
her  slave  in  twelve  hours.  I  declare,  it  proved 
to  be  tiresome  to  the  last  degree  !  Now  there 
is  a  new,  and  therefore  an  interesting,  scope 
for  doubt.  Did  you  feel  any  elective  affinity 


In  Lightest  Lenox  109 

when  you  were  being  presented  on  the  plat- 
form ?  Whose  slave  do  you  think  you  will 
be  ?  "  she  ended  archly. 

While  she  had  been  rattling  on,  Calvert's 
mind  had  been  so  occupied  with  this  new  turn 
of  the  wheel,  that  he  had  scarcely  listened  at 
all.  Now  he  gathered  himself  together,  and 
responded  in  the  same  light  vein,  and  with  the 
expected  gallantry  :  "  Can  there  be  any  doubt 
in  my  case  either,  Miss  Mclntyre  ?  Surely, 
that  also  is  a  foregone  conclusion  ! " 

Miss  Mclntyre  gave  vent  to  the  absurd 
little  giggle  that  punctuated  all  her  remarks ; 
while  the  memory  of  a  quiet,  musical  laugh, 
filled  with  pure,  responsive,  contagious  mirth, 
came  swiftly  into  the  mind  of  the  man  beside 
her. 

"How  well  you  said  that,"  she  retorted,  in 
her  high,  clear  voice.  "  Of  course  you  had  to 
say  something  pretty,  but  I  think  you  put  it 
more  originally  than  most  men  would  have 
done.  That 's  because  you  are  a  writer,  I  sup- 
pose. Bob  Everett  told  us  that  you  wrote  ; 


no  As  Having  Nothing 

and  that  makes  you  so  much  more  interesting. 
If  you  are  my  slave  while  you  're  up  here,  I 
shall  insist  on  your  writing  me  poetry,  you 
know.  How  amusing  that  would  be  !  I  have 
never  read  anything  you  wrote,  Mr.  Dodge," 
she  added,  with  an  assumption  of  blunt  frank- 
ness ;  "  I  never  read  anything  but  trashy  nov- 
els. In  fact  I  'm  just  a  butterfly  of  the  most 
frivolous  description.  You  must  tell  me  about 
your  books,  I  'm  so  interested — are  they  very 
deep?" 

Calvert  looked  amused.  "  I  'm  afraid  I  can't 
confess  to  any  books  yet,  Miss  Mclntyre,"  he 
said,  lightly.  "  Only  a  good  deal  of  hack, 
journalistic  work,  and  a  small  showing  of  dull 
magazine  articles.  Won't  you  please  consider 
me  as  frivolous,  too  ?  I  can  plead  guilty  to  a 
very  light  novel  now  in  press." 

Miss  Mclntyre  gave  him  a  quick,  shrewd 
glance  from  her  black  eyes,  which  saw  more 
than  they  pretended.  "  You,  frivolous  ! "  she 
exclaimed,  with  a  shy  frankness  far  more  pleas- 
ing than  her  former  manner.  "  Men  with  a 


In  Lightest  Lenox  in 

hollow  up  by  their  temples  are  never  frivolous. 
It  is  n't  in  them !  But  I  '11  try  to  teach  you  if 
you  want  me  to — that  is,  I  '11  show  you  what 
it 's  like.  I  '11  be  a  revelation  to  you  of  pure, 
unadulterated  froth ;  and  then  you  can  put 
me  into  a  book  later,  if  you  want  to.  You  '11 
get  tired  of  too  much  character  after  a  while ; 
and  I  '11  be  an  excellent  foil,  a  sort  of  whipped- 
cream  trifle,  after  the  solid  courses,  you  know  ! 
How  long  are  you  going  to  stay  ?" 

Dodge  laughed  in  genuine  entertainment, 
with  a  distinct  wish  that  Miss  Wallace  could 
be  here  to  meet  this  new  specimen  of  feminin- 
ity. How  she  would  appreciate  it !  He  must 
treasure  it  all  up  to  tell  her  when  he  got  back. 
By  the  way,  he  would  get  back  pretty  soon,  he 
decided  suddenly ;  since  his  reason  for  this  trip 
was  no  more.  There  was  that  article  on  the 
East  Side  to  be  completed  for  the  Century  by 
the  middle  of  July ;  and  he  had  small  time  or 
inclination  to  frivol  away  his  days  in  Lenox. 
How  strange  that  he  should  miss  Miss  Whet- 
more  again  !  There  seemed  to  be  some  fate 


ii2  As  Having  Nothing 

against  their  meeting  each  other.  Miss  Wal- 
lace said  she  was  to  stay  with  the  Everetts  un- 
til she  sailed  on  the  Teutonic,  which  left  the 
28th  of  June — a  week  from  to-morrow.  He 
wondered  where  she  was  to  be  in  the  mean- 
time, and  decided  he  must  find  out  from  Bob. 
Well,  now  he  was  here,  he  'd  get  all  the  fun  he 
could  out  of  it  for  a  day  or  two,  and  then  give 
up  this  wild-goose  chase,  which  was,  to  say  the 
least,  an  undignified  performance,  and  settle 
down  to  good,  hard,  remunerative,  congenial 
work  again. 

"  Only  over  Sunday,  I  believe,"  he  smiled, 
genially,  after  all  this  thought  preamble ;  and 
Miss  Mclntyre  never  noticed  the  hiatus,  for 
thought  is  more  swift-winged  than  any  winged 
creature  to  which  we  can  compare  it.  She 
looked  really  disappointed,  and  pulled  down 
the  corners  of  her  laughing  mouth  with  a 
droll  expression  of  regret  which  she  could  not 
hold  for  more  than  an  instant,  however.  Dolly 
Mclntyre's  mouth,  so  some  of  her  friends  were 
mean  enough  to  insinuate,  never  retained  any 


In  Lightest  Lenox  113 

expression  long  which  prevented  her  from 
using  it  for  its  natural  purpose  of  talking. 

"  Oh,  what  a  shame  !  But  we  shall  keep 
you  longer,  I  know.  Why,  you  can't  be  half 
a  slave  in  two  days.  I  have  already  the  most 
enticing  plans  for  the  two  of  us.  They  cover 
all  sorts  of  things  and  places — the  golf-links, 
tennis-court,  ballroom,  canoe,  summer-houses ! 
Oh,  you  can't  go  so  soon  as  Monday  !  I  do 
all  those  things  equally  well,  you  must  know. 
In  fact,  my  only  fault  is  that  I  am  too  in 
earnest  over  my  frivolities.  To  be  really 
frivolous  one  should  be  frivolous  over  frivoli- 
ties, I  suppose.  How  is  that?  You,  an  au- 
thor, ought  to  know." 

"  No,"  replied  Calvert,  with  a  grave,  deliber- 
ate sophistry,  which,  added  to  the  twinkle  in 
his  eye,  completely  won  Miss  Mclntyre's  good- 
will. "  No,  anyone  who  did  not  care  deeply 
about  frivolities  would  not  be  frivolous,  they 
would  be  serious — you  grant  that  ? "  She 
nodded.  "  And  also,  anyone  who  saw  the 
frivolity  of  frivolities  would  be  serious.  You 


ii4  As  Having  Nothing 

do    neither.      So   by   two   strong   arguments, 
you  are  completely  frivolous,  do  you  see  ? " 

"  I  see,  perfectly.  Oh,  thank  you,  I  am  so 
relieved !  I  had  the  most  horrible  idea  that 
you  would  prove  I  was  serious,  somewhere  at 
the  bottom,  and  then  I  should  have  had  to  live 
up  to  the  discovery.  It 's  so  delightfully  re- 
freshing and  restful  to  know  certainly  that  one 
has  absolutely  no  foundation,  and  therefore 
that  it  would  be  futile  to  try  to  improve  a  germ 
that  didn't  exist.  I  know  those  are  horribly 
mixed  metaphors,  but  it's  all  of  a  piece  and 
you  know  what  I  mean,  and  that  is  the  only 
important  thing  in  life,  after  all,  is  n't  it  ?  Oh, 
here  we  are  !  That 's  the  Lodge  through  the 
trees.  Is  n't  it  a  dear,  so  Elizabethan  !  Have 
you  ever  been  here  before  ?  I  thought  not. 
You  '11  love  it,  as  we  all  do.  I  tell  Bob  Everett 
that  some  day,  some  girl  will  be  actually  driven 
into  marrying  him,  in  spite  of  his  absolute 
idiocy,  in  order  to  be  chatelaine  of  this  glorious 
place.  Bob 's  frivolous  too,  you  know,  quite  as 
bad,  or  worse,  than  I  am  !  I  suppose  you  be- 


In  Lightest  Lenox  115 

long  at  the  Annex.  I  think  the  house  is  full," 
she  added,  as  they  bowled  up  the  driveway  to 
a  temptingly  cool-looking,  low,  and  rambling 
stone  house,  whose  windows  peeped  out  like 
the  eyes  of  Skye  terriers  from  the  overhanging 
thatchings  of  ivy. 

It  proved  as  she  said.  The  house  was  full ; 
and  Bob  led  his  friend  across  a  close-clipped 
lawn,  and  then  along  a  well-worn  foot-path 
that  wound  a  few  hundred  yards  through  a 
grateful  strip  of  murmuring  pines  that  quite 
suggested  a  forest,  to  the  Annex,  where  com- 
fortable accommodations  for  ten  men  had  been 
arranged. 

The  two  days  that  followed  were  full  to  the 
brim  of  plans,  which  matured  one  after  the 
other  with  the  natural,  graceful  bloom  of  a 
flower,  and  with  never  a  hint  of  machinery  or  ef- 
fort beneath — a  result  greatly  to  be  sought  af- 
ter, whether  one  entertains  on  a  large  or  small 
scale.  Miss  Mclntyre,  true  to  her  promise, 
was  unfailingly  frivolous,  to  the  great  enjoy- 
ment and  edification  of  Calvert  Dodge,  who 


n6  As  Having  Nothing 

rewarded  her  Sunday  night  by  telling  her  that 
she  was  the  most  absolutely  consistent  char- 
acter he  had  ever  met ;  that  she  was  flawless 
in  fact,  and  that  he  should  certainly  put  her 
into  a  book  some  day,  if  she  would  allow  him. 
Then  they  shook  hands  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  with  a  warm  and  genuine  cordiality  and 
mutual  good  wishes,  for  Calvert  was  to  take 
too  early  a  train  the  next  morning  to  permit  of 
a  frivolous  girl's  company  at  breakfast ;  after 
which  Dodge  strolled  into  the  smoking-room, 
where  he  found  several  of  the  men  gossipping 
intermittently  over  their  pipes  and  beer.  They 
yawned  themselves  off  to  bed,  by  ones  and 
twos,  Bertram  Linton  among  the  first.  Bertie 
had  developed  a  sudden  taste  for  early  hours 
which  surprised  and  mystified  all  his  friends, 
who  had  always  looked  upon  him  as  champion 
owl  of  their  social  fraternity. 

Calvert  Dodge  and  his  host  were  finally  left 
alone,  and  after  a  few  minutes,  Dodge  brought 
out  the  question  he  had  been  wanting  to  ask 
ever  since  he  came,  but  for  which  he  had  not 


In  Lightest  Lenox  117 

found,  or  been  allowed,  the  opportunity.  "Who 
else  has  been  here  this  summer  ? "  he  asked, 
with  a  Macchiavellian  adroitness,  which  suc- 
ceeded to  a  marvel.  Bob  ran  over  a  list  of 
names,  a  great  many  of  which  were  well  known 
to  Calvert,  ending  with — "  and  then  Joan  Whet- 
more  was  here  for  nearly  a  week  before  you 
came.  She  went  the  very  day  you  arrived,  by 
the  way.  I  do  wish  you  had  met  her,  Dodge. 
Just  about  your  style  of  girl,  I  fancy.  She's 
a  peach,  if  you  like  !  Mother  and  Sis  hoped 
to  keep  her  some  time  longer,  for  I  can  tell 
you  she 's  a  drawing  card  ;  but  they  changed 
their  minds  and  their  steamer  suddenly,  and 
sailed  for  Europe  yesterday." 

Sailed  for  Europe  !  The  chase  for  the  Wisp 
was  over  in  reality  then  !  For  Calvert  had 
neither  time  nor  money  nor  desire  to  continue 
it  across  the  water.  In  fact,  he  had  been  sur- 
prised to  find  how  little  the  disappointment  had 
affected  him.  He  had  fully  expected  to  feel  a 
decided  annoyance,  because  he  was  well  aware 
that  the  foiling  of  a  plan  was  to  him  something 


n8  As  Having  Nothing 

very  hard  to  bear,  and  a  thing  which  he  very 
seldom  allowed  to  happen.  But  somehow  or 
other,  he  seemed  more  anxious  to  get  back  to 
New  York  than  anything  else  ;  and  he  had 
mentally  patted  himself  on  the  head,  and  ap- 
plauded his  invulnerability  to  the  wiles  and 
persuasions  which  had  been  showered  upon 
him  to  make  him  forsake  his  work,  and  stay 
with  this  merry  party  of  "lotus-eaters"  at 
Lenox. 

"  I  never  met  Miss  Whetmore,"  he  said  care- 
lessly, "  but  I  have  heard  of  her  through  Miss 
Wallace.  They  are  very  good  friends,  I  be- 
lieve." 

To  his  surprise,  Bob  Everett  sat  bolt  upright 
in  the  Morris  chair  which  he  had  elongated  to 
its  most  luxurious  capacity.  "  Elizabeth  Wal- 
lace ?  Do  you  mean  Elizabeth  Wallace  ? "  he 
asked  eagerly. 

"Yes." 

"  Why,  do  you  know  her,  Dodge  ?" 

"  Slightly,"  replied  Calvert,  a  trifle  impa- 
tiently. "Why?" 


In  Lightest  Lenox  119 

"  Well,  aw — nothing — I  do  too,  that 's  all," 
said  Bob,  leaning  back  again.  He  pulled  away 
slowly  at  his  pipe  for  a  moment  or  two.  Then 
he  took  it  out  and  said  abruptly,  "  Say,  do  you 
mind  if  I  'fess  up,  old  man  ?  I  've  got  some- 
thing on  my  mind  ;  and  you  know  my  mind  is 
too  delicate  to  digest  anything  very  heavy.  I 
wish  you  'd  help  me  out  as  you  used  to  do  at 
Harvard,  Calvert." 

Calvert  smiled,  although  he  felt  a  curious 
distaste  to  hear  what  he  fancied  was  coming. 
"  You  want  my  advice  as  a  sort  of  mental  dose 
of  pepsin,  eh,  Bob  ?  " 

"  That 's  just  about  it,"  said  the  other 
thoughtfully.  "  See  here,  I  met  that  girl  in 
Italy  five  years  ago  ;  and  I — by  Jove,  Dodge! 
you  know  what  it  is — I  fell  head-over-heels  in 
love  with  her — that 's  just  the  size  of  it,"  he 
ended,  with  a  burst  that  seemed  to  come  from 
the  bottom  of  his  boots.  "  I  don't  really  know 
exactly  how  to  describe  it,  though.  It  was 
more,  or  less,  than  most  men  feel  when  they 
talk  about  being  in  love,  because  I  never 


120  As  Having  Nothing 

dreamed  of  being  presumptuous  enough  to 
think  she  would  ever  marry  me.  I  simply 
adored  the  ground  she  walked  on,  and  thought 
her,  as  I  still  do,  the  grandest,  most  beautiful, 
most  utterly  charming  woman  God  ever  made. 
I  could  n't  begin  to  appreciate  her,  I  know," 
he  added  with  a  wholesale  humility,  "  any 
more  than  a  fellow  with  a  paltry  soul  like  mine 
can  truly  appreciate  the  beautiful  in  art  or  na- 
ture, I  suppose.  But  she  meant  just  that  to 
me — the  incorporation  of  all  that  was  most 
beautiful  in  the  world  ;  and  with  it  all  she  was 
so  charmingly  human,  so  impulsive,  so  full  of 
fire  and  poetry,  and  yet  friendly,  and  well — 
human,  you  know  ! "  ended  Bob,  with  a  wild 
grasp  at  some  word  which  would  fitly  convey 
his  meaning.  Calvert,  meanwhile,  smoked  in 
silence,  and  tried  to  adapt  this  description  to 
the  tall,  dignified  goddess  in  the  stained  yellow 
smock,  who  had  seemed  so  self-contained,  so 
self-sufficient. 

Bob  went  on.     "  Of  course  I  proposed  to 
her — proposed  over  and  over  again.     I  fairly 


In  Lightest  Lenox  121 

flocked  there  ;  though,  as  I  said,  I  had  n't  the 
slightest  idea  that  she  would  ever  take  me. 
The  truth  is,  Dodge,"  leaning  over  the  arm  of 
his  chair,  and  dropping  his  voice  to  a  tragically 
confidential  whisper,  "  I  don't  know  what  in 
the  world  I  should  have  done  if  she  had.  I 
knew  all  along  I  could  never  live  up  to  her  or 
satisfy  her.  I  was  utterly  inadequate.  She 
was  an  angel  to  me,  and  said  all  sorts  of  com- 
forting things,  so  that  after  a  while  I  got  so 
that  I  used  to  propose  just  to  hear  her  talk ; 
she  had  such  a  truthful,  sweet  knack  of  rubbing 
one  the  right  way  when  she  refused  one.  Once 
she  described  the  sort  of  a  girl  I  ought  to 
marry  and  told  me  just  how  I  'd  care  for  her 
and  how  happy  and  jolly  she  would  make  me. 
And,  by  Jove  !"  bringing  his  fist  down  with  a 
thud  that  sent  the  pipe  flying  on  to  the  fender, 
where  it  shivered  to  bits  unnoticed,  "  it  's  all 
happened  just  as  she  said  it  would.  Only  I  've 
been  too  darned  ashamed  to  acknowledge  it 
till  to-night.  How  a  man  could  love  anyone 
else  after  caring  for  her  the  way  I  still  care  is  a 


122  As  Having  Nothing 

mystery !  I  must  be  a  pitiable  ass,  Calvert, 
eh?" 

The  anxiety  in  his  tone  smote  so  keen  upon 
Calvert's  sense  of  the  ridiculous,  that  in  spite 
of  himself  he  burst  out  laughing ;  at  which 
Bob  looked  decidedly  nettled. 

"  Oh,  if  you  think  it 's  just  a  joke  !  "  he  said 
gloomily.  "  Everyone  thinks  I  'm  just  a  kind  of 
living  joke  anyway,  and  I  'm  sick  of  it !" 

Calvert  clapped  him  hard  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Forgive  me,  Bobbie,"  he  said  heartily.  "  I 
could  n't  help  it,  you  were  so  awfully  in  earnest 
and  self-depreciative.  How  about  the  other 
girl  ?  Is  the  new  Barkis  willin'  ?" 

"That's  just  the  trouble.  I  don't  know 
that !  She  teases  me  all  the  time,  but  some- 
how or  other  I  think  she  would  be — though  I 
know  I  'm  an  awful  duffer  to  say  so  before- 
hand. We  just  suit  each  other  in  every  way," 
he  went  on,  waxing  unconsciously  enthusiastic, 
"  and  we  always  have  such  fun  together !  Then 
she  has  such  a  comfortable  way  of  taking  a 
fellow  for  granted,  you  know ;  and  hang  it  all, 


In  Lightest  Lenox  123 

I  'm  afraid  to  tell  her  about  this  other  affair  too. 
You,  see  I  'm  in  a  deuce  of  a  fix  all  around." 

"  Not  in  the  least,  Bob ;  it  's  clear  sailing. 
Go  in  and  win  !  If  number  two  is  as  sensible 
as  you  make  out,  and  as  I  'm  sure  she  is,  tho' 
I  Ve  only  known  her  two  days, " 

"  You  know  her  !  Why,  who — how — did 
I  mention  her  name  ? "  began  Bob  con- 
fusedly. 

"  No,  you  were  discretion  itself,  but  her 
name  is  Dolly  Mclntyre  all  the  same;  and  I 
can  congratulate  you  in  advance,  Bob,  if  you 
win  her,  as  I  think  you  will.  It 's  absurd  to  give 
the  other  thing  a  thought.  As  you  say,  it  was 
never  a  marrying  love,  only  a  sort  of  higher 
platonics,  and  you  never  in  the  world  would 
have  suited  each  other.  I  know  Miss  Wallace 
herself  would  tell  you  the  same  thing." 

"  She  has,"  admitted  Bob,  shamefacedly. 
"  I  wrote  and  proposed  all  over  again,  before 
I  said  a  word  to  Dolly.  Of  course  she  refused 
again,  too,  but  in  such  a  friendly,  matter-of- 
course  way,  that  I  plucked  up  courage  to  tell 


124  As  Having  Nothing 

her  all  about  it.  She  wrote  me  the  finest  sort 
of  a  letter  in  reply ;  but  I  felt  as  if  I  wanted 
to  get  a  man's  point  of  view.  For  somehow, 
I  have  the  sneakingest  feeling  of  disloyalty  to 
something.  Not  to  her — I  was  never  ass 
enough  to  feel  that  way — but  to — I  suppose 
you  call  these  things  ideals,  eh  ?  " 

"  Ideals  will  answer.  But,  Bob,  my  son,  the 
best  ideal  is  the  real ;  and  it  seems  to  me 
you  Ve  got  that  right  at  hand.  My  advice  to 
you  is  to  tell  Miss  Mclntyre  everything,  and 
leave  it  in  her  sensible  hands.  She  '11  straighten 
you  out  in  no  time,  if  she's  the  girl  I  think 
her.  Good  night,  old  man — cheer  up,  and 
don't  forget  to  send  me  cards  ! " 

Bob's  face  brightened.  "  I'll  do  it,"  he  said 
forcibly ;  "  my  knees  have  been  shaking  over 
the  notion  that  she  'd  have  nothing  more  to 
say  to  me  if  I  told  her.  In  books,  girls  always 
seem  to  have  some  fixed  idea  of  being  first, 
and  the  only  one,  and  all  that.  But  I  know 
Dolly  is  n't  like  that.  She  '11  understand.  I 
know  I  can  trust  her,  bless  her  !  "  he  ended, 


In  Lightest  Lenox  125 

with  a  fervency  that  Calvert  felt  would  be  sure 
to  win  the  day  with  Miss  Mclntyre ;  even  if 
backed  against  the  most  gorgeously  chivalrous, 
ideal  hero,  romance  ever  caparisoned  for  a 
lady's  favor. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN    DARKEST    NEW    YORK 
"  God  knows  it,  I  am  with  you 

If  to  despise 

The  barren,  optimistic  sophistries 
Of  comfortable  moles.     .     .     . 

If  thoughts  not  idle,  while  before  me  flow 

The  armies  of  the  homeless  and  unfed 

If  these  are  yours.     If  this  is  what  you  are." 

WHILE  he  was  at  Lenox  an  idea  had 
come  into  Calvert's  head.  As  soon 
as  he  reached  New  York  he  went  to  the  Cen- 
tury Company  and  suggested  it  to  them,  using 
as  arguments  the  June  number  of  the  Papyrus, 
and  several  of  the  proof  illustrations  for  his 
own  manuscript.  He  emerged  with  the  genu- 
inely happy  countenance  of  one  who  has  suc- 
ceeded in  doing  a  good  turn  to  a  fellow-creature, 

126 


In  Darkest  New  York  127 

and  at  the  same  time  pleasing  himself.  The 
result  of  all  this  was  a  note  to  Miss  Wallace 
from  the  Century  Company  asking  if  she  would 
undertake  the  illustration  of  an  article  by  Cal- 
vert  Dodge,  entitled  :  "  Summering  in  the  East 
Side  Tenement  District ; "  and  adding  that 
Mr.  Dodge  would  supply  her  with  all  necessary 
details,  photographs,  etc.,  as  data  to  work  from. 
When  she  received  it,  Elizabeth  was  puz- 
zled, and  found  herself  in  the  clutch  of  very 
conflicting  impulses.  One  of  them,  and  the 
stronger  because  the  more  sensible,  was  not 
to  quarrel  with  her  bread  and  butter,  espe- 
cially when  it  was  handed  to  her  by  a  publish- 
ing firm,  the  value  of  whose  introduction  she 
realized  very  keenly.  The  other,  not  so  easily 
explained,  was  a  feeling  of  irritation  over  what 
she  was  pleased  to  call  "  the  impertinent  inter- 
ference of  that  insufferable  Mr.  Dodge  " ;  for 
there  was  no  doubt  in  her  mind  that  the  insti- 
gation had  come  from  him  in  the  first  place. 
Those  keen  gray  eyes  had  penetrated  her 
pride,  the  flimsy  disguise  of  their  poverty,  and 


128  As  Having  Nothing 

he  had  been  influenced  by  a  feeling  of  amused 
pity  for  her  assumed  independence.  She  had 
felt  the  hatefully  masculine  decision  of  his 
glance  and  of  his  manner  once  or  twice,  and 
had  resented  it  heartily.  She  longed  to  refuse 
to  undertake  the  illustration  of  his  article  con- 
clusively, with  a  plea  of  too  much  other  work. 
But  Elizabeth  was  honest,  and  Elizabeth  was 
fair,  and  she  felt  from  the  first  moment  of 
reading  the  note  that,  struggle  as  she  might  in 
the  face  of  her  distaste,  there  was  simply  noth- 
ing for  her  to  do  but  accept  the  opportunity 
gratefully,  and  as  graciously  as  possible,  for 
her  mother's  sake,  and  for  her  own.  That  is 
one  of  the  hardest,  possibly  the  best,  things 
about  poverty,  that  one  can  no  longer  revel  in 
the  carrying  out  of  one's  foolish,  hot-headed 
impulses.  No,  that  is  the  birthright  of  the 
wealthy  alone ! 

And  so  it  happened  that  when  Mr.  Dodge 
called  at  the  studio  the  following  afternoon,  it 
was  a  polite  and  acquiescent  Elizabeth,  al- 
though a  rather  frigid  one,  who  received  him, 


In  Darkest  New  York  129 

and  discussed  ways  and  means  for  combining 
to  make  the  article  an  interesting  one,  pic- 
torially. 

Calvert  had  a  new  plan  to  suggest,  which 
was  that  Miss  Wallace  should  accompany  him 
once  or  twice  to  the  East  Side,  while  he 
finished  his  notes,  making  sketches,  and  in- 
structing him  as  to  the  points  and  arrange- 
ments of  grouping  which  he  should  snap  with 
his  camera  to  aid  with  the  pictures.  It  did 
seem  the  wisest  arrangement,  and  moreover 
Elizabeth  had  long  been  moved  by  a  strong 
sympathy  and  interest  for  the  less  fortunate 
in  our  great  cities,  and  confessed  to  a  very 
strong  wish  to  see  for  herself  just  how  the 
"other  half"  lived.  Then,  too,  if  she  under- 
took the  illustration,  she  felt  that  she  wished 
it  to  be  satisfactory  to  herself  as  well  as  the 
publisher  and  the  general  public,  and  she  had 
small  inclination  to  base  her  sketches  upon 
photographic  data  furnished  by  someone  else, 
by  whom,  probably,  the  very  points  most  inter- 
esting and  salient  to  her  might  easily  be  over- 


130  As  Having  Nothing 

looked.  She  had  a  very  decided  inclination  to 
do  her  own  exploring,  but  that,  too,  she  sup- 
pressed, with  the  wisdom  born  of  second 
thought,  since  a  camera  and  pilot  would  be 
really  of  the  greatest  help  in  the  world.  After 
all,  what  did  it  matter  ?  There  was  no  reason 
for  anything  personal  to  intrude  in  the  case. 
She  would  look  at  him,  not  even  in  the  light 
in  which  she  had  unconsciously  come  to  regard 
him,  as  Joan  Whetmore's  special  property,  but 
merely  as  a  business  accomplice,  and  as  such 
make  all  the  use  of  him  she  could,  and  en- 
deavor to  accept  the  inevitable  with  as  indif- 
ferent a  good  grace  as  she  found  no  trouble 
about  showing  in  other  purely  business  trans- 
actions. 

The  result  of  all  this  was  that  when  Dodge 
left,  it  was  with  the  understanding  that  he 
should  call  for  her  at  two  o'clock  on  the  fol- 
lowing Saturday,  to  make  their  preliminary 
expedition  ;  and  also  with  the  conviction  more 
distinctly  rooted  than  ever  that  Miss  Wallace 
was  the  most  utterly  self-sufficient,  utterly 


In  Darkest  New  York  is1 

independent  girl  he  had  ever  met  with,  or  even 
imagined  ;  and  that  she  rubbed  him  the  wrong 
way  more  than  anyone  had  ever  done  before 
in  the  whole  course  of  his  life.  "  Hang  it  all ! " 
he  thought,  rather  savagely  :  "  I  verily  believe 
she  would  be  rash  and  pig-headed  enough  to 
prefer  to  go  down  there  by  herself,  and  I 
declare,  if  I  consulted  my  own  personal  incli- 
nation, I  'd  cut  the  job  of  piloting  her  ;  but 
of  course  the  thing  is  simply  not  to  be  heard 
of.  No  woman  could  go  about  down  there 
alone  and  be  safe  from  impertinence  and 
possible  risk,  let  alone  anyone  so  striking. 
I  'd  let  the  whole  thing  drop,  if  I  could ;  but 
it 's  gone  too  far  now,  and  as  it  was  my  own 
fault  in  the  beginning — though  I  might  have 
known — I  suppose  I  've  got  to  see  it  through. 
But  women  like  that,  who  have  such  an  igno- 
rant idea  of  the  hard  facts  of  life  as  to  think 
they  can  be  young  and  beautiful — yes,  beauti- 
ful— and  yet  expect  to  go  everywhere,  just 
like  a  man,  make  me  tired.  They  ought  to  be 
locked  up." 


132  As  Having  Nothing 

Saturday  came,  and  the  excursion  passed  off 
more  amicably  and  successfully  than  might 
have  been  expected  from  the  state  of  mind  of 
the  two  belligerents.  It  was  not  hard  for 
Elizabeth  to  forget  herself,  and  even  her  com- 
panion, in  the  absorbing  interest  and  sadness 
of  the  new  sights  that  met  her  eyes.  The 
squalor  and  wretchedness,  and  pitiful  lack  of 
air  to  supply  the  swarming  denizens  of  the 
streets  by  which  they  penetrated,  were  facts 
which  she  had  known  vaguely,  but  had  never 
fully  realized.  That  part  of  the  city  to  which 
they  went  that  Saturday  afternoon  seemed 
a  vividly-illustrated  dictionary,  defining  ex- 
pressions which  had  hitherto  been  the  idioms 
of  a  dead  language.  And  yet,  with  it  all, 
the  thing  that  struck  her  most  forcibly  was 
the  uncrushable  buoyancy  of  human  nature. 
Through  the  dull,  gray  warp  of  misery  and 
want  gleamed  constantly  the  bright  threads 
of  a  woof  of  cheerfulness  and  even  gaiety 
of  disposition,  which  seemed,  however,  so 
thoughtless,  so  utterly  at  variance  with  the 


In  Darkest  New  York  133 

life  these  poor  creatures  led,  as  to  sadden, 
even  while  it  amused  her. 

"  Oh,  poor,  poor  little  mites  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
one  time,  when  they  were  threading  their  way 
through  such  a  narrow  alley  that  opposite 
neighbors  could  chat  cozily  across  it ;  "  how 
can  they  laugh  and  play  and  sing  !  Should  n't 
you  think  the  frightful  inexorableness  of  the 
life  they  are  coming  to  would  crush  it  all  out 
of  them  ?  "  Calvert's  rather  serious  face  lighted 
with  a  smile  full  of  the  loving,  balanced  spirit 
of  a  true  humanitarianism.  Then,  "  I  might 
have  known  how  it  would  shock  and  grieve 
you  ;  how  it  would  have  affected  any  woman 
who  sees  it  for  the  first  time,"  he  said,  with 
a  sudden  regret  in  his  tone.  "  But  believe 
me,  it  is  not  nearly  so  hard  for  them  as  you 
are  vividly  picturing  it.  They  have  known 
nothing  else  from  their  cradles.  There  is 
nothing  for  them  to  compare  their  life  to 
but  this." 

Elizabeth  interrupted  him  hastily.  "  Oh, 
you  people  with  the  hard,  statistical  minds  and 


134  As  Having  Nothing 

hearts — how  I  hate  you  ! "  she  said  vehemently. 
"  That  is  a  comfortable  way  to  shut  one's  self 
out  from  a  natural  sympathy  and  desire  to 
help,  isn  't  it  ?  To  close  one's  eyes,  and  say 
the  poor  know  nothing  better — that  they  are 
comfortable !  Why  don't  you  logical  people 
argue  this  way  then — '  If  they  who  are  born 
to  misery,  would  not  appreciate  happiness 
over  our  comforts ;  vice  versa,  we  who  are 
born  to  happiness  would  not  appreciate  mis- 
ery, if  we  possessed  their  discomforts  ! ' '  She 
stopped,  struck  with  the  absurdity  of  her  own 
speech,  and  they  both  laughed.  But  Elizabeth 
continued  eagerly — "  Of  course  that  is  non- 
sense ;  but  really — you  say  there  is  nothing 
for  them  to  compare  their  lives  with.  Is  not 
that  just  as  absurd  and  untrue  ?  What  pre- 
vents them  from  wandering  into  other  parts 
of  New  York,  the  clean,  the  well-kept,  even 
the  wealthy  parts  ;  what  hinders  them  from 
going  up-town  to  Central  Park — do  they  not 
swarm  there,  these  hot  days,  poor  souls — and 
comparing  the  existence  of  the  well-dressed, 


In  Darkest  New  York  135 

well-fed  children  who  drive  and  walk  there  with 

their  parents  and  nurses,  and " 

"  Wait  a  minute  !  That  is  true,  of  course,  but 
do  you  suppose  for  an  instant  that  the  life  of 
the  richer  class  appeals  to  any  but  a  very  few  ? 
I  tell  you  it  does  not.  To  those  little  children, 
whom  we  saw  dancing  to  the  hurdy-gurdy  a 
few  minutes  back,  if  they  thought  at  all,  it 
would  seem  the  height  of  misery  to  be  obliged 
to  wear  shoes  and  stockings  and  hats  this 
weather,  and  to  promenade  stiffly  up  and  down, 
tied  to  an  apron-string,  instead  of  unhampered 
as  they  are.  While  to  their  parents  nothing 
could  be  drearier  and  more  uncomfortable  than 
to  be  obliged  to  live  in  a  house,  each  family  by 
itself,  and  to  conform  to  amenities  and  conven- 
tionalities of  clothes  and  food  and  behavior 
from  which  they  are  so  blessedly  free.  No,  I 
have  pity  enough  and  to  spare  for  what  is  really 
pitiable,  the  actual  portion  of  bodily  misery 
which  comes  to  them  from  the  lack  of  sufficient 
food  and  air  in  summer,  or  clothes  and  heat 
in  winter.  But  beyond  that,  surely  it  is  fool- 


136  As  Having  Nothing 

ish  to  sympathize ;  for  believe  me,  the  power 
to  philosophize  over  their  condition  is  ut- 
terly and  mercifully  absent  from  their  disposi- 
tion." 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  admitted  Elizabeth,  with  her 
quick  fairness,  which  was  as  ready  and  unspar- 
ing of  her  own  injustice  as  of  others,  "  I  ex- 
aggerated. I  realize  that  all  that  you  say  is 
true ;  but  we  have  to  judge  with  the  compar- 
ing minds  that  have  been  given  to  us.  Think- 
ing our  lives  the  better  and  higher,  is  it  not 
the  worst  cruelty  of  all  when  we  realize  this 
gulf  not  to  try  to  bridge  it,  and  use  our  every 
effort  to  try  to  teach  them  how  to  think,  how 
to  aspire,  beyond  this  mere  animal  view  of 
existence  ?  " 

"  You  are  right  and  wrong  at  the  same  time, 
I  think,"  returned  Calvert  thoughtfully,  but 
glowing  with  the  reflected  feeling  of  her  voice  ; 
"but  it  must  be  done  with  infinite  care  and 
wisdom  ;  and  just  at  first  all  our  efforts  should 
be  directed  towards  teaching  them  how  to  pro- 
tect and  provide  for  their  simple  bodily  needs, 


In  Darkest  New  York  137 

before  we  attempt  to  go  deeper  and  instruct 
the  mind." 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you  there  !  Surely  it  is 
better  to  inform  the  mind  first,  and  then  let 
that,  of  itself,  devise  a  way  to  provide  for  the 
body." 

"  You  misunderstand  me.  What  I  mean  is, 
it  is  Quixotic,  and  even  foolhardy,  to  teach 
them  to  think  before  we  first  help  them  to 
work." 

41  But  that  is  just  what  I  mean — if  we  teach 
them  to  think,  we  shall  open  countless  new 
avenues  of  work  to  them." 

"  I  think  we  both  agree  really ;  only  we  are 
approaching  our  common  meeting-ground  in 
such  opposite  directions ;  you,  from  the  ideal, 
the  theoretical ;  and  I,  doing  the  best  I  can 
from,  perhaps,  the  ultra-practical  side.  The 
very  best  way  is  to  combine  the  two.  I  am 
sure  we  both  honestly  believe  this  to  be  the 
best  way  when  we  think  deeply.  That  is,  never 
to  lose  sight  of  the  theoretical,  but  to  let  it  de- 
velop itself  naturally  by  slow  and  sure  degrees, 


138  As  Having  Nothing 

or  else  our  reforms  would  achieve  nothing  with 
these  unwieldy  masses  to  whom  ignorance  of 
the  higher  things  has  been  the  breath  of  life 
for  years,  in  many  cases  for  generations.  We 
would  simply  inculcate,  otherwise,  a  passionate 
dissatisfaction  which  would  end  in  more  in- 
tense suffering,  or  wide-spread  revolution,  and 
the  distress  that  comes  in  its  train." 

Elizabeth  nodded  understandingly  ;  and  Cal- 
vert  went  on  more  lightly,  but  with  an  under- 
tone of  conviction  which  persuaded  the  girl 
beside  him  that  his  opinions  were  anything  but 
the  result  of  superficial,  selfish  thinking — rather, 
the  outcome  of  an  earnest  study  of  the  subject : 
"In  other  words,  it  is  decidedly  like  starting  a 
snow-ball  at  the  top  of  a  steep  hill  to  go  at  this 
grave  problem  in  anything  but  a  spirit  which 
has  weighed  all  the  facts,  as  well  as  all  the 
theories.  Once  started,  there  is  no  stopping 
it.  One  does  not  know  to  what  dimensions  it 
may  grow,  or  what  disaster  may  result  in  its 
path.  The  very  immensity  of  numbers,  which 
this  class  of  people  with  their  untrained  minds 


In  Darkest  New  York  139 

comprises,  makes  the  possibility  for  danger  far 
greater  than  can  be  computed,  if  we  force  ideas 
upon  them  for  which  they  are  not  ready. 
Ideas  are  dangerous  things.  They  are  like 
nitro-glycerine, — very  useful  and  effective 
placed  in  the  proper  receptacles  ;  but  misplaced 
or  misused — well,  you  can  imagine  the  wide- 
spread destruction ! " 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  think  I  know  so  little, 
have  read  so  little.  My  chief  source  of  infor- 
mation has  been  the  way  I  have  heard  such 
subjects  discussed  abroad,  among  people  who 
touch  intentionally,  perhaps  necessarily,  on 
the  surface.  But  I  have  always  had  the  most 
intense  contempt  for  those  who  refuse  to  ad- 
mit the  suffering,  and  quote  statistics  at  one 
to  show  how  little  real  misery  there  is  in  the 
world.  I  think  there  is  nothing  so  lying  as 
statistics,  because  to  my  mind  real  misery  is 
the  sort  that  does  not  offer  itself  as  a  statis- 
tic, but  oftener  hides  away  with  a  pride  that 
utterly  baffles  the  census  people." 

"  I   agree  with  you,  and,  indeed,  I  want  to 


140  As  Having  Nothing 

take  back  something  too.  I  think  the  realiza- 
tion of  the  utter  impossibility  of  effecting  any 
speedy  reform  is  apt  to  inoculate  impatient 
people  with  the  deadly  poison  of  enforced  in- 
difference. If  they  cannot  see  the  result  of 
their  labors,  if  even,  in  all  probability,  the  final 
result  will  be  invisible  to  their  grandchildren, 
what  use  to  spend  time  and  breath  and  labor  ? 
And  so  all  effort  ceases.  It  needs  just  such 
zealous  people  as  you  to  wake  up  the  others 
and  inspire  them  anew,  not  only  with  fresh 
faith  in  the  eventual  result,  but  with  the  feel- 
ing that  it  is  incumbent  upon  us  all  to  work, 
to  do  our  little  mite,  even  if  the  outcome  lies 
hidden  somewhere  in  the  dim  ages.  You  have 
done  me  good,  at  any  rate." 

It  was  strange  that  Elizabeth  should  feel  no 
annoyance  at  her  self-acknowledgment  of  this 
man's  superiority  of  reasoning,  but  the  fact 
was  that,  personalities  aside,  whenever  their 
two  minds  wrestled  upon  impersonal  ground, 
she  felt  a  sense  of  actual  pleasure  in  realizing 
that  his  was  the  wiser  and  riper  of  the  two. 


In  Darkest  New  York  141 

She  laid  down  the  fact  that  this  was  so,  to  the 
pleasure  which  everything  gave  her  that  per- 
suaded her  more  and  more,  the  more  she  saw 
of  him,  that  Calvert  Dodge  was  worthy  of  the 
girl  whom  she  had  felt  from  the  first  he  was 
des'tined  for, — worthy  even  of  her  dearest  Joan. 

She  found  very  soon  that  serious  sketching 
was  almost  an  impossibility  from  the  dense- 
ness  of  the  population,  which  at  the  first  hint 
of  anything  so  rarely  unusual  as  an  artist  in 
its  midst,  crowded  about  with  undisguised  cu- 
riosity, so  that  it  was  nearly  as  difficult  to 
breathe  as  work  ;  and  she  saw  that  the  camera 
would  prove  a  most  able  abettor  to  the  slight 
notes  she  was  able  to  jot  down  in  her  little 
sketch-book.  They  both  grew  very  much  ab- 
sorbed before  the  afternoon  was  over,  Dodge, 
snapping  right  and  left,  whenever  a  point 
caught  his  companion's  interest,  with  a  reckless 
extravagance  which  finally  exhausted  the  plates 
he  had  brought  with  him,  so  that  they  had,  per- 
force, to  return  homeward  before  five  o'clock. 

On  the  way  up-town  they  waxed  still  more 


As  Having  Nothing 

interested,  planning  the  next  expedition  and 
Dodge  gave  Miss  Wallace  a  very  concise  out- 
line of  the  exact  ground  he  hoped  to  cover  in 
his  article.  Elizabeth  had  closed  her  studio 
for  the  day  when  she  left  it  with  Calvert  at 
two  o'clock,  and  so  they  had  taken  the  Ninth 
Avenue  Elevated  directly  home.  When  they 
reached  the  apartment-house  he  stopped  and 
was  introduced  to  Mrs.  Wallace,  who  took 
an  evident  and  unusual  liking  to  him  at  once. 
Indeed,  his  manner  with  the  elder  woman  was 
perfection,  Elizabeth  thought,  as  she  watched 
his  old-fashioned  courtesy  and  charming  defer- 
ence. But  then  it  is  women  like  Mrs.  Wallace, 
young  or  old,  who  arouse  every  spark  of  ten- 
derness and  chivalry  a  man  possesses.  He 
stayed  for  half  an  hour,  and  when  he  left,  Mrs. 
Wallace  was  enthusiastic  almost  to  extrava- 
gance in  her  praise  of  him — looks,  bearing, 
and  conversation. 

"  It  is  easy  to  see  that  he  is  well-born  and 
well-bred,  even  if  one  did  not  know  he  be- 
longed to  the  family  he  does,"  she  remarked, 


In  Darkest  New  York  143 

complacently.  "  You  heard  him  say  that  his 
mother  was  a  Miss  Raleigh  of  Virginia,  did  you 
not  ?  And  they  are  descended  from  the  Eng- 
lish Raleighs,  the  Raleighs  of  shire,  you 

know,  and  the  very  best  blood  in  the  land." 

"  Yes,  Mother  dear.  What  a  head  you 
have  for  county  families  unto  the  third  and 
fourth  generation,  even  the  roving  ne'er-do- 
weels  of  youngest  sons  who  came  to  America 
so  many  years  ago  !  "  smiled  Elizabeth,  in  her 
affectionate,  teasing  voice.  "  And  is  n't  it  a 
mercy  that  Mr.  Dodge  is  vouched  for,  on  his 
maternal  great-grandfather's  side  ?  For  now 
you  will  not  bemoan  my  plunges  into  '  darkest 
New  York,'  with  such  a  trustworthy  guide  !  " 

"  It  is  a  very  proper  feeling,  love,"  answered 
Mrs.  Wallace,  placidly ;  "  but  I  am  sure  when 
you  told  me  he  was  a  friend  of  Joan  Whet- 
more's  I  consented  to  your  going  with  him 
without  another  thought,  and  without  knowing 
anything  about  his  family." 

"  A  friend  of  a  friend  of  Joan's,"  corrected 
Elizabeth.  "  And  by  the  way,  Madre,  you 


144  As  Having  Nothing 

must  meet  this  missing  link  in  the  chain, — Mr. 
Linton.  He  has  a  pedigree,  if  you  like,  oh, 
miles  and  miles  of  it,  connecting  with  the  Scot- 
tish Highlanders  by  way  of  the  Mayflower,  so 
Joan  says.  And  though  he  is  a  gilded  youth 
of  the  period  which  shines  with  an  entirely  re- 
flected glory  of  the  past,  there  is  something 
behind  it  all  which  seems  to  me  to  promise 
that  he  might  develop  a  pretty  fair  arc-light  of 
his  own,  if  one  could  only  lift  off  the  extin- 
guisher of  burnished,  conventional  plate  armor 
which  he  sees  fit  to  live  under  ! " 

"  What  fancies  you  do  have,  Elizabeth  ! " 
said  Mrs.  Wallace,  rather  helplessly.  She  men- 
tally stood  on  the  shore  and  clucked  like  a 
puzzled  hen  who  has  hatched  out  a  duck  unbe- 
knownst, and  watches  its  unnatural  prowess  in 
an  element  entirely  unfamiliar  to  herself. 

"  Mr.  Linton  is  the  nice  publisher,  sweet- 
heart, whom  Joan  brought  to  the  studio  one 
afternoon,  and  it  is  through  him  that  all  our 
good  luck  has  come.  So  you  will  treat  him 
very  prettily  indeed,  won't  you,  when  he  comes 


In  Darkest  New  York  145 

to  call  ? "  she  ended,  with  a  characteristic 
caress,  which  consisted  in  pulling  out  her 
mother's  hairpins  one  by  one,  until  she  was  in 
as  girlish  a  gale  as  anybody  could  wish. 

That  night  Elizabeth  wrote  a  long  letter  to 
Joan,  of  which  I  will  quote  only  the  last  few 
paragraphs.  "  I  was  so  sorry  to  miss  the 
steamer,  but  that  wretched  snail  of  an  elevator 
boy  kept  your  telegram  a  full  hour.  I  could 
have  wrung  his  neck  !  As  soon  as  I  heard 
you  had  changed  your  steamer  I  was  prepared 
also  to  hear  what  Mr.  Dodge  told  me  when  he 
returned — that  he  had  just  missed  you  again  at 
the  Everett's.  It  was  easy  to  see  what  a  disap- 
pointment it  was  to  him  to  find  you  gone. 
He  is  a  good  deal  of  a  dreamer,  Joan,  and  I 
can  appreciate  just  how  strong  a  hold  the  un- 
usual quality  in  this  coincidence  has  taken 
upon  him.  At  first  I  thought  he  was  too 
much  of  a  dreamer,  and  set  him  down  as  too 
pronounced  a  visionary  to  please  you,  dear. 
The  more  I  see  of  him  the  more  convinced  I 
feel  that  my  first  impression  was  wrong.  He 


As  Having  Nothing 

develops,  on  further  acquaintance,  a  practical 
fund  of  common  sense,  tempered  just  enough 
with  this  sanguine  enthusiasm  to  take  away 
the  sledge-hammer  effect  of  one  who  is  only 
common-sensible.  Not  that  I  think  he  is  good 
enough  for  you  by  any  means.  But  I  do  be- 
gin to  realize  that  what  chiefly  offends  me 
about  him  is  brought  out  by  the  radical  hostil- 
ity of  our  temperaments,  and  my  very  strong 
conviction  that  he  disapproves  of  many  dis- 
agreeable traits  which  I  possess,  and  which 
you,  Joan,  lack  utterly.  In  fact,  it  is  very 
plain  on  the  face  of  it,  that  a  man  whose  ideal 
is  the  Wisp  would  be  irritated  by,  and  just  as 
surely  irritate,  a  girl  like  me.  I  will  write  you 
more  about  him  after  I  have  seen  more  of  him. 
Just  now  the  thing  that  chiefly  impresses  me 
is  his  very  evident  determination  to  realize 
his  ideal  by  meeting  you,  and  the  still  more 
strange  fact  that  every  time  I  see  him  I  am 
conscious  of  less  distaste  for  the  idea,  and  find 
myself  discovering  more  ways  in  which  he 
would  appreciate  and  suit  you." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

TEMPORARY    ALLIES 

"  Whom  towns  immure, 
And  bonds  of  toil  hold  fast  and  sure." 

DURING  the  two  warm  weeks  that  fol- 
lowed, Dodge  and  Miss  Wallace  went 
several  times  to  the  lower  part  of  the  city  and 
succeeded  in  getting  together  almost  all  the 
material  necessary,  while  in  the  meantime 
Elizabeth  busied  herself  at  the  studio  over  the 
elaboration  of  these  heterogeneous  sugges- 
tions. From  the  beginning  Calvert  had  prom- 
ised his  companion  a  glimpse  of  a  very  char- 
acteristic interior,  where  unhindered  and  in 
perfect  security  she  could  sketch  some  ex- 
cellent types.  "  Some  personal  friends  of 
mine,  some  very  great  friends,"  he  had  said, 

147 


148  As  Having  Nothing 

and  Elizabeth  was  growing  much  interested 
and  curious.  On  their  fourth  trip,  which  they 
both  expected  would  be  the  last,  he  kept  his 
promise.  They  left  the  Elevated  at  the  Riv- 
ington  Street  Station  and  dived  eastward 
through  three  twisting  streets  to  a  tenement, 
across  whose  swarming  courtyard  they  picked 
their  way  in  accustomed  familiarity  with 
sounds,  sights,  and  smells. 

"  I  am  ashamed,  positively  ashamed  to  real- 
ize how  quickly  one  grows  used  to  this  sort  of 
thing.  I  'm  actually  getting  hardened  to  it," 
smiled  the  girl  as  she  lifted  a  sprawling,  tow- 
headed  infant  out  of  her  path.  But  the  ten- 
derness of  her  smile  and  the  gentleness  of  her 
touch  as  she  did  so  were  amplest  contradiction 
of  her  words.  Which  contradiction  Calvert 
reinforced  when  he  said  :  "  Not  hardened,  only 
prepared  to  give  a  help  and  sympathy  that  are 
a  thousand  times  more  useful  than  your  first, 
more  poetical  feeling,  because  truer  and  wiser. 
Here  we  are  ! "  as  they  reached  the  fourth 
landing,  and  he  knocked  at  a  door  standing 


Temporary  Allies  149 

half  ajar.  It  was  thrown  open  in  a  minute  by 
a  red  and  tousled-headed  urchin,  who  burst 
into  a  howl  of  Irish  glee  at  sight  of  his 
visitor. 

"  Hully  gee  !  If  it  ain't  de  gentleman  from 
de  Club,  Biddy  ! "  he  cried,  dragging  Calvert 
forward  into  the  room.  Elizabeth  followed, 
much  entertained,  to  find  Mr.  Dodge  shaking 
hands  with  a  withered  little  old  woman,  whose 
face  looked  like  a  dried  apple,  but  whose 
small,  shrewd  eyes  shone  out,  bright  and  rest- 
less, from  the  wrinkled  flesh.  Beside  her,  on 
the  floor,  sat  a  little  creature,  whose  beauty 
made  Elizabeth  draw  her  breath  in  surprise. 
She  was  about  four  years  old,  and  her  tangled, 
tawny  hair  and  bright  face  made  such  a  spot 
of  brilliant  light  in  the  dingy  room  as  to  fur- 
nish it  completely,  to  a  beauty-loving  eye.  She 
had  caught  one  of  Calvert's  fingers,  and  was 
holding  tight  to  it,  with  an  expression  of  affec- 
tionate audacity  very  pretty  to  see.  "  Misser 
Dodge,  gimme  what  's  in  de  nittle  lef'-han' 
pottet  ! "  she  urged.  Dodge  laughed  and 


150  As  Having  Nothing 

tossed  her  a  package  which  he  drew  from  the 
above-mentioned  receptacle.  Then  he  turned 
and  introduced  Miss  Wallace  to  the  three — 
Mrs.  Mulcahey,  Miss  Biddy  Mulcahey  and  Mr. 
Daniel  Mulcahey  ! 

"  How  's  this,  Dan,  old  man,"  he  added,  to 
the  boy  ;  "  what  are  you  doing  home  at  this 
hour  of  the  day  ?  What 's  wrong  with 
trade  ? " 

"Wrong?  Nothin',"  answered  that  worthy 
stoutly  ;  "  dusty  weather  's  de  stuff  for  us  fel- 
lers in  de  shoe-polishin'  business.  I  quit  ter- 
day  ter  bring  home  dem  posies,"  he  added, 
rather  shamefacedly,  indicating  with  his  thumb 
some  pretty  forlorn  specimens  which  graced 
the  window-sill  in  a  broken  beer-bottle.  "  A 
lady  guv  'em  ter  me,  up  on  de  Avenyer,  and  I 
brung  'em  back  ter  Granny,  afore  they  all 
faded  out.  I  'm  goin'  now  !  Be  you  comin'  ter 
de  Club  on  Wednesday  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  replied  Dodge,  cheerily.  "  I 
brought  this  lady  to  call  to-day  because  she 
wants  to  make  a  picture  of  Granny  and  Biddy, 


Temporary  Allies  151 

if  Mrs.  Mulcahey  is  willing.  You  shall  see  it 
in  a  book  some  day,  Dan  ! " 

"  Why  could  n't  I  make  a  sketch  of  Dan, 
too  ? "  said  Elizabeth,  who  had  taken  a  strong 
fancy  already  to  the  grubby,  frank,  and 
freckled-faced  boy.  "If  he 's  busy  now  he 
might  come  up  to  the  studio  some  day  and 
regularly  pose,  you  know,"  she  added  to  Cal- 
vert,  while  Dan  showed  a  double  row  of 
splendidly  strong,  big,  white  teeth  in  an  ample 
and  embarrassed  grin. 

It  was  arranged  that  he  should  do  as  she 
suggested,  and  then  Dodge  departed  with  him, 
promising  to  come  back  in  three-quarters  of  an 
hour,  during  which  Miss  Wallace  could  work 
in  peace. 

There  were  unlimited  opportunities, — an  un- 
rivalled vista  of  chimney-pots  leaning  together, 
all  awry,  in  a  sociable,  gossippy  fashion  ;  well- 
stocked,  flapping  clothes-lines,  festooned  in  all 
directions  ;  window-gardens,  with  their  pitiable 
array  of  soap-boxes  and  vegetable-cans,  whose 
contents  were  more  anxiously  tended  than 


i52  As  Having  Nothing 

many  a  conservatory ;  and  far  below,  a  court- 
yard unequalled  for  numbers  and  picturesque 
untidiness.  Finally,  the  room  itself  was  a 
sketch  worth  taking  away  ;  and  the  inmates 
most  tempting  of  all.  Elizabeth  began  on 
Mrs.  Mulcahey,  who  mumbled  out  her  tooth- 
less delight. 

"  It  's  a  great  plasure,  darlin',"  she  said,  in 
her  thin,  jerky  old  voice,  "  and  it  's  little 
enough  there  is  for  the  loikes  of  me,  but  oi 
kape  happy — oh  yis  ! — -though  it 's  hard  to 
chew  these  days,  and  oi  can't  enjy  me  food  a 
tall,  a  tall !  It 's  only  the  gums  as  is  left,  ye 
see  ! " 

It  was  hard  to  persuade  the  old  body  (to 
whom  the  word  portrait  suggested  a  painfully 
rigid  interval  with  an  iron  clamp  at  the  back 
of  one's  shaking  head)  that  in  order  to  be 
sketched  she  need  not  sit  in  petrified  immobil- 
ity ;  and  once,  Elizabeth,  looking  up,  caught 
such  an  unblinking  stare  that  she  was  afraid  if 
she  kept  her  posing  much  longer  paralysis 
might  set  in. 


Temporary  Allies  153 

Next  she  stole  a  hint  of  Biddy's  elfin  beauty, 
while  the  restless  child  fluttered  about  the 
room  like  some  rarely  bright  butterfly  which 
has  come  out  of  its  chrysalis  into  a  dark  garret, 
and  seems  to  beat  its  beautiful  wings  in  a  piti- 
ful search  for  its  natural  birthright  of  light  and 
air.  Mrs.  Mulcahey  hung  over  Elizabeth's 
chair  and  watched  the  progress  of  this  picture 
most  minutely,  punctuating  every  other  pencil- 
stroke  with  an  impressed  and  delighted  "  Oi 
see  !  "  which  made  the  artist  so  nervous  that  she 
longed  to  shriek  out  her  amusement.  To  in- 
terrupt the  refrain,  she  questioned  the  old  wo- 
man about  her  history,  and  the  ruse  succeeded 
admirably.  Mrs.  Mulcahey  plunged  at  once 
into  a  rambling  recital,  with  the  garrulity  of 
old  age. 

Her  listener  gathered  by  slow  degrees  that 
she  had  been  born  in  the  "  owld  counthry, 
County  Cork,"  and  had  lived  on  a  farm  when  a 
lass,  that  she  had  married  a  fisherman  when 
she  was  eighteen,  and  that  he  had  died  and 
left  her  a  widow  "  with  sivin  childer,"  at  the 


154  As  Having  Nothing 

age  of  "  thurty-two."  "  It  was  kind  and  good 
they  were  to  me,  thin,"  she  crooned,  in  her 
thin,  minor  monotone.  "  The  neighbors  di- 
vided the  childer  amongst  'em,  and  thin  they 
all  took  up  a  prescription  and  sint  me  acrost 
the  wather,  where  oi  lived  out  for  forty  year." 

"  And  did  n't  you  ever  go  back  to  the  chil- 
dren ? "  asked  Elizabeth,  eagerly. 

"  Indade,  indade  not,  miss  !  All  me  little 
childer  died,  all  but  one,  Patsy — and  he  died 
too,"  she  ended  ;  which  confusing  statement 
Elizabeth  discovered  was  explained  by  the  fact 
that  Patsy  alone  had  lived  to  grow  up.  "He 
got  married,  and  buried  his  wife  in  ten  year, 
and  thin  he  came  to  'Meriky  a  year  ago  come 
Christmas,  to  bring  these  two  colleens  to  his 
owld  mither.  And  thin  he  up  and  died  too, 
miss,  and  left  the  childer  on  me  hands — and 
its  dratted  mischiefs  they  are  ! "  she  finished 
with  a  doting  lunge  of  her  stick  at  Biddy,  who 
was  swinging  like  a  saucy  little  Brownie  on  the 
rungs  of  her  chair. 

"  Oh,  how  sad  to  leave  all  your  children, 


Temporary  Allies  155 

and  then  lose  them  ! "  exclaimed  Elizabeth, 
with  an  acute  sympathy  for  the  lonely  life. 

"  Well,  oi  don't  know  !  Childer  is  n't  al- 
ways good  for  their  parents.  Some  gits  kilt, 
some  gits  drowned,  and  some  gits — every- 
thing, and  goes  to  the  bad  entoirely  ! "  said 
the  observant  old  lady — a  piece  of  wisdom 
which  Elizabeth  reported  wickedly  to  Calvert 
on  their  way  home,  in  direct  refutation  of  his 
remark  that  the  practice  of  philosophy  was  a 
lost  art  among  the  dwellers  of  the  tenements. 

They  were  destined  to  hear  another  refuta- 
tion that  very  afternoon.  The  day  had  been 
stifling, — so  hot,  in  fact,  that  when  Dodge  had 
turned  up  according  to  agreement,  he  had  tried 
to  dissuade  Miss  Wallace  from  going.  But 
Elizabeth  was  adamant.  "  It 's  no  hotter  to 
work  down  there  than  up  in  this  studio,  where 
the  skylight  is  getting  to  be  a  regular  burning- 
glass,"  she  said,  decidedly.  "  Besides,  if  those 
poor  creatures  stand  it  all  summer,  I  think  we 
can  stand  it  for  an  afternoon.  Please  come  ! " 
The  last,  unconscious  argument  of  a  pleading 


As  Having  Nothing 

which  was  rarely  heard  in  Elizabeth's  voice 
was  what  won  the  day,  although  she  never 
guessed  it.  The  heat  had  indeed  been  some- 
thing terrific  ;  and  Elizabeth  and  Calvert  had 
been  walking  along  in  silent  discomfort,  mop- 
ping their  brows  intermittently,  with  an  unusual 
unanimity.  Just  as  they  turned  into  the  Bow- 
ery, they  passed  a  group  of  Germans,  sitting 
on  the  step  of  a  hot  and  fly-invested  beer-sa- 
loon. As  they  passed,  the  self-complacent  re- 
mark of  the  largest  and  burliest  and  most 
supposedly  warm  of  the  group  reached  them. 
"  Yas,"  he  said  slowly,  and  with  a  ring  of  solid 
content  in  his  tone,  which  bore  evidence  to  its 
truth,  "  Yas,  I  don't  believe  you  could  find  a 
cooler  spot  in  summer  than  what  New  Yark 
is ! "  Calvert  and  Elizabeth  looked  at  each 
other  and  laughed  with  a  vivid  enjoyment, 
which  made  them  forget  the  heat  for  a  whole 
minute  as  they  climbed  the  Elevated  steps. 
One  very  good  thing  about  the  other,  so  each 
had  begun  to  be  aware,  was  that  it  was  never 
incumbent  to  speak  openly  of  the  humor  of  a 


Temporary  Allies  157 

situation.  Things  appealed  to  them  both  in 
the  same  way,  at  the  same  moment,  and  all 
that  was  important  was  to  look  at  the  other 
for  a  silent  appreciation  that  doubled  the 
amusement. 

"  How  did  you  come  to  know  those  delicious 
Mulcaheys  ?  What  a  foolishly  fascinating  name 
that  is  to  say,  by  the  way.  Do  you  notice  how 
it  leaves  your  mouth  exactly  in  the  forced  po- 
sition of  a  stage  laugh — Mulcahey  !  Try  it ! " 

Calvert  laughed.  "  Why,  I  met  the  boy  at 
a  club  I  belong  to,  over  by  the  river,  and  took 
a  fancy  to  him.  He  is  such  a  bright  little  chap. 
He  took  me  to  see  his  family  one  day.  Is  n't 
the  old  lady  rich  ?  I  should  certainly  have 
made  an  exception  of  her  when  I  said  there 
were  no  philosophers — she  is  a  female  Dio- 
genes, if  ever  there  was  one !  And  what  do 
you  think  of  Biddy  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  is  perfectly  bewitching.  I  'm  go- 
ing to  paint  her  some  day.  But  it  makes  my 
heart  ache  to  think  of  her  growing  up  in  that 
atmosphere.  She  will  be  so  beautiful !  One 


158  As  Having  Nothing 

longs  to  transplant  her  to  some  safe,  happy 
farmhouse  out  in  the  open  country." 

"  Do  you  know,  that 's  what  I  've  wanted  to 
do  ever  since  I  first  saw  her !  We  must  talk 
over  ways  and  means  some  time.  I  need  just 
your  clear  woman's  head  to  help  me.  Surely, 
there  must  be  plenty  of  good,  kindly,  farm 
people  who  would  take  the  child  for  little  more 
than  the  assistance  she  would  be  to  them  in 
time.  She  is  too  young  to  be  separated  from 
her  grandmother,  I  suppose,  though  ;  and  Mrs. 
Mulcahey  says  she  would  'schmother  in  the 
counthry  ! '  to  use  her  own  expression.  At  any 
rate,  Biddy,  and  Dan  too,  must  get  away  some- 
where, for  a  couple  of  weeks  or  so  next  month." 

"Indeed  they  must!"  agreed  Elizabeth 
thoughtfully.  "  What  was  the  club  you  spoke 
of?" 

The  man  beside  her  flushed  boyishly.  "  Oh, 
nothing ;  merely  a  boy's  club  I  'm  interested 
in.  There  are  so  many  types  to  be  met  there, 
you  know,"  he  added,  in  extenuation  of  what 
Elizabeth  divined  to  be  good  works. 


Temporary  Allies  159 

"  I  've  thought  of  something,"  she  said 
brightly,  "  that  I  believe  may  do.  I  had  a 
nurse  years  ago,  who,  like  Mrs.  Mulcahey, 
married  a  fisherman,  and  went  to  live  on  Long 
Island,  down  near  Good  Ground.  She  has  a 
nice,  comfortable,  little  cottage  there  ;  and 
later,  in  August,  when  it  gets  very  warm, 
Mother  and  I  are  going  down  to  board  with 
her.  I  'm  sure  we  could  manage  to  have  the 
children  at  the  same  time.  And  then,  perhaps, 
— of  course  I  don't  know — but  Martha  is  such 
a  loving  old  soul,  and  she  has  no  children  of 
her  own,  poor  thing,  and  so  if  she  took  a  fancy 
to  them  she  might,  you  see, — at  any  rate  it 
could  be  easily  managed,  and  with  very  little 
expense,  for  a  few  weeks,"  she  ended. 

"  The  very  thing  !  nothing  could  be  better," 
said  Calvert,  delightedly,  as  she  finished. 
"  Thank  you  so  much  for  thinking  of  it. 
We  '11  consider  their  summering  settled  then  ; 
and  as  for  what  you  suggest  about  a  more 
permanent  arrangement,  that  can  decide  itself 
later.  I  can't  help  hoping  and  thinking  that 


160  As  Having  Nothing 

Biddy  and  Dan  will  win  their  way  almost  any- 
where, into  the  right  sort  of  hearts.  But  it 's 
out  of  the  question  to  think  of  your  bothering 
to  have  the  kids  down  there  while  you  are. 
If  you  would  be  good  enough  to  give  me  your 
nurse's  address,  I  '11  write  and  make  arrange- 
ments for  a  few  weeks  now,  before  you  and 
Mrs.  Wallace  go  down." 

"  Oh,  but  no,  indeed  ! "  cried  Elizabeth, 
warmly ;  "  it  would  add  so  much  to  have  them 
there  while  we  are.  We  would  n't  let  them 
trouble  us  in  the  least,  except  when  we  felt 
like  it,  and  there  is  plenty  of  room  for  all  of 
us.  Martha  says  the  cottage  is  such  a  large, 
roomy  one.  Oh,  please,  I  have  it  all  planned 
already  !  It  would  be  lovely  to  have  them 
in  August,  and  it  would  be  so  hard  for  them  to 
go  now  and  then  come  back  for  the  very  worst 
hot  weather  of  all." 

Calvert  shook  his  head,  laughingly :  "  You 
don't  know  what  you  might  be  saddling  on 
yourself.  They  are  '  howly  terrors,'  as  Mrs. 
Mulcahey  often  says,  meaning  full  of  animal 


Temporary  Allies  161 

spirits — although  they  are  both,  I  know,  sweet- 
tempered  children  at  the  core.  Goodness 
knows  what  riotous  imps  they  would  develop 
into  with  the  sea  for  a  playfellow  !  They 
might  utterly  ruin  your  own  vacation." 

"  In  that  case  we  could  pack  them  off 
to  a  neighbor's,"  said  Elizabeth,  undaunted. 
"  There  are  plenty  of  fisher-folk  right  at  hand 
who  would  be  more  than  glad  of  a  little  extra 
money." 

Calvert  shot  a  quick,  keen  glance  at  the 
girl's  enthusiastic  face.  To  his  clear-sighted 
eyes  it  had  been  looking  a  little  tired  of  late, 
and  either  a  trifle  pale  or  rather  unnaturally 
flushed.  He  felt,  with  sudden  anger,  that  the 
city  was  no  place  for  her  in  this  heat, — that  it 
and  the  work  were  wearing  on  the  vitality 
which  she  spent  so  luxuriantly.  He  was  grow- 
ing far  too  wise  to  venture  a  personal  dissuader 
however.  "Just  when  is  it  you  expect  to 
go  away  yourself,  Miss  Wallace  ?  "  he  asked, 
casually. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.      We  have  n't  decided 


1 62  As  Having  Nothing 

at  all,  yet.  Some  time  next  month,  I  fancy. 
When  it  grows  too  warm  for  Mother,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  Don't  you  think  that  Mrs.  Wallace  ought 
to  get  away  sooner  than  that  ?  It  struck  me, 
the  other  day,  that  the  heat  must  be  trying  for 
her,  that  she  seemed  just  a  little  used  up  and 
fagged  by  it.  I  think  older  people  feel  it  more 
than  we  who  have  so  much  to  think  about  and 
plan." 

Oh,  subtle  and  harmless  insinuation  !  But 
Elizabeth,  nevertheless,  was  on  the  anxious 
defensive  at  once. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  she  demanded, 
quickly ;  "  I  Ve  thought  Mother  seemed  un- 
usually well  this  summer.  I  have  n't  noticed 
that  she  was  looking  pale,  and  she  was  saying 
only  the  other  day  how  much  more  endurable 
a  New  York  summer  could  be  than  she  had 
ever  supposed.  You  see,  we  are  really  situ- 
ated most  enviably,  with  the  Hudson  on  one 
side,  and  the  Park  on  the  other."  Her  tone 
sounded  ruffled  and  a  thought  discouraging,  and 


Temporary  Allies  163 

Calvert  hastened  to  retreat  quietly,  and  in  order, 
covering  his  defeat  as  skilfully  as  possible. 

It  had  come  to  be  a  regular  thing  for  him  to 
stop  and  visit  with  Mrs.  Wallace  for  a  little 
while  after  each  expedition  ;  and  he  had  grown 
to  depend  on  these  half-hour  talks  with  the 
beautiful  and  attractive  woman,  although  Eliz- 
abeth's manner,  on  such  occasions,  was  apt  to 
grow  very  quiet  and  reserved.  So  long  as  they 
were  alone  together,  and  both  interested  in 
their  common  search  for  material,  she  was  full 
of  an  eager  suggestiveness  which  bordered  close 
on  friendliness  ;  but  when  the  object  which 
put  her  and  Calvert  for  the  time  so  in  touch 
was  attained,  the  old  distant  attitude  returned, 
and  she  seemed  at  once  as  remote  from  any 
personal  intimacy  and  as  undesirous  of  such  a 
thing  as  possible.  After  they  reached  home, 
she  would  leave  Calvert  and  her  mother  to- 
gether, with  the  most  unaffected  indifference ; 
going  about  whatever  occupied  her  attention 
at  the  moment,  precisely  as  if  he  were  not  pres- 
ent. Unwittingly  to  both  of  them,  in  this  very 


1 64  As  Having  Nothing 

way  he  was  gaining  a  new  insight  into  her  many- 
sided  character  ;  and  he  found  himself  recalling, 
when  alone,  little  ways  of  hers  which  he  had 
scarcely  been  conscious  of  having  noted  at  the 
time.  Her  playful,  protecting,  altogether  lov- 
able attitude  towards  Mrs.  Wallace  ;  the  unob- 
trusive skill  and  quiet  despatch  with  which  she 
seemed  to  put  the  room  in  harmony  with  her- 
self as  soon  as  she  entered  it,  changing  its  al- 
most painfully  precise  daintiness,  which  showed 
the  impress  of  Mrs.  Wallace's  presence  during 
the  day  by  a  few,  swift,  scarcely  noticeable 
touches,  which  left  one  with  a  feeling  that 
a  fresh,  sweet  breeze  had  blown  through  the 
room,  leaving  the  trace  of  Nature's  fingers 
everywhere. 

The  second  time  that  they  had  been  down- 
town, Dodge  had  stopped  at  the%foot  of  the 
Elevated  steps  and  exchanged  a  coin  for  a 
bunch  of  sweet  peas,  offered  by  an  old  man 
who  plied  his  sweet-smelling  trade  there.  These 
he  had  given  to  Mrs.  Wallace  ;  and  always 
after  that,  whenever  he  came,  there  was  the 


Temporary  Allies  165 

same  insignificant  purchase,  and  the  same 
pleased  smile  of  gracious  appreciation  from 
Mrs.  Wallace,  who  would  hand  them  immedi- 
ately to  Elizabeth  to  be  put  in  water.  Another 
thing  that  lingered  pleasurably  in  Calvert's 
mind  was  that  very  simple  operation  of  arrang- 
ing the  flowers  he  had  brought.  The  unhesi- 
tating choice  of  the  receptacle  most  fitting  in 
size  and  color,  the  exquisite  daintiness  in  her 
manner  of  handling  the  blossoms,  which  seemed 
not  so  much  to  be  arranged  as  to  be  allowed 
to  fall  into  their  own  instinctive  and  therefore 
beautiful  attitudes  without  a  touch  too  many. 
Her  indifference  to  his  presence  had,  some- 
how, ceased  to  irritate  him  as  it  would  have 
done  at  first ;  for  he  had  begun  to  want  to 
study  her  movements,  her  effects,  covertly ; 
and  this  quiescent  mood  gave  him  the  most 
untrammelled  opportunity  for  a  silent,  fragmen- 
tary note-taking,  which  gradually,  if  uncon- 
sciously, was  formulating  in  his  mind  a  newer 
and  truer  opinion  of  this  girl  who  apparently 
needed  and  desired  his  appreciation  so  little. 


CHAPTER   IX 

AN    IMPROMPTU    ROOF-GARDEN 

"  Present  mirth  hath  present  laughter, 
What 's  to  come  is  still  unsure  !  " 

FOURTH  of  July  evening  Calvert  called 
at  the  Wallaces',  to  find  Elizabeth  all 
alone  in  the  little  apartment.       She  greeted 
him  with  an  honest  surrender  to  his  wisdom 
which  filled  him  with  an  absurd  exhilaration. 

"  Yes,  what  you  told  me  was  true,  every 
word  of  it,"  she  admitted,  after  she  had  given 
him  a  firm,  quick  hand-shake.  "  I  have  been 
criminally  short-sighted  about  that  little  Mother 
of  mine  ;  and  when  I  came  home  the  other  day 
after  talking  to  you,  I  saw  so  clearly  how  pale 
she  was  looking.  It  seemed  as  if  scales  had 
fallen  from  my  stupid  eyes ;  and  so  I  coerced 

166 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      167 

her — actually,  cruelly  coerced  her  out  of  town 
yesterday.  I  took  her  to  that  little  place  near 
Good  Ground  where  the  old  nurse,  of  whom  I 
told  you,  lives,  and  promised  her  on  my  sacred 
word  of  honor  that  I  would  join  her  this  week, 
just  as  soon  as  we  finish  that  article." 

"  I  'm  so  glad,  and  as  glad  for  your  sake  as 
hers  ! "  ejaculated  Calvert,  heartily.  But  that 
remark  was  a  mistake,  and  brought  the  quick 
lift  to  Elizabeth's  chin  for  which  Dodge  had 
grown  to  look  closely,  as  a  man  anxious  for 
the  weather  keeps  an  eye  on  the  changing 
barometer ;  and  he  hastened  to  add,  "  It  was 
a  great  scheme  to  get  her  out  of  the  city  to- 
day, for  it 's  been  perfectly  deafening,  has  n't 
it?" 

Elizabeth  made  a  little  grimace.  "  I  'm 
afraid  I  'm  outgrowing  my  patriotism.  Or  at 
least,  I  am  very  willing  to  express  it  quietly. 
I  don't  mind  the  cannon  so  much — a  big  noise 
seems  somehow  worth  while,  and  adequate  to 
the  occasion — but  there  is  an  invisible  small 
boy  who  lives  in  the  next  apartment-house  who 


1 68  As  Having  Nothing 

has  been  firing  off  package  after  package  of 
little  firecrackers,  one  by  one,  at  intervals  of 
two  minutes,  all  day  long.  They  have  ex- 
ploded with  the  most  maddening,  meaningless 
little  crack  ever  since  four  o'clock  this  morn- 
ing, until  I  was  ready  to  scream.  I  'm  so 
glad  you  came,  for  I  Ve  done  nothing  but  cal- 
culate for  the  past  hour,  one  firecracker  every 
two  minutes  for  sixteen  hours  of  sixty  minutes 
each — how  much  does  that  make  ?  " 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  Calvert,  laughing.  "  You  '11 
drive  my  gray  hairs  in  sorrow  down-town,  if 
you  begin  mental  arithmetic  !  " 

"  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  he  has  n't  uttered  a 
word  or  laughed  a  laugh  all  day  long,"  went 
on  Elizabeth,  full  of  her  grievance  ;  "  not  a  hu- 
man sound  from  him,  just  that  businesslike, 
unceasingly  intermittent  little  crack  ! " 

"  Poor,  lonely,  serious  little  lad !  How 
horrible  to  have  to  take  a  pleasure  so  sadly  ! " 

The  sympathy  in  his  voice  made  Elizabeth 
feel  like  a  selfish  monster.  "  I  thought  /was 
the  one  to  be  pitied  all  along.  I  see  it 's  only 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      169 

the  boy,"  she  pouted.  In  this  aggrieved  mood, 
half  pretended,  half  real,  she  seemed  very 
young,  and  Calvert  again  was  conscious  of 
that  queer  little  twinge  of  happiness.  The 
truth  was  that  she  had  been  feeling  wretchedly 
lonely  all  day  long,  and  when  there  was  no  one 
to  take  care  of,  she  suddenly,  as  is  often  the 
case,  wanted  to  be  cared  for  herself,  and  would 
have  been  grateful  for  any  companionship  at 
all  by  this  time. 

"  I  came  up  to  see  if  I  could  persuade 
you  and  Mrs.  Wallace  to  go  over  to  River 
side  Drive  with  me  and  see  the  fireworks. 
Would  n't  you  like  to  come,  anyway  ?  "  Calvert 
began  ;  but  the  suggestion  reminded  Elizabeth 
of  her  solitary  condition. 

"  Oh,  it 's  too  warm,  and  it 's  too  far  !  "  she 
said,  in  a  discouraging  voice.  "  I  'd  like  to 
see  them,  though,"  she  added,  relenting  a  little, 
for  it  had  been  very  warm  and  very  stupid  all 
day.  "  I  wish  we  could  get  some  view  of  it 
from  here,  but  I  'm  afraid  the  houses  will  shut 
it  all  off." 


1 70  As  Having  Nothing 

"  I  tell  you  ! "  suggested  Calvert,  with  a  sud- 
den inspiration  ;  "  what's  the  matter  with  the 
roof  ?  We  could  get  a  magnificent  panorama 
from  there,  and  it  would  be  gloriously  cool  be- 
sides. Suppose  we  try  it  ?" 

Elizabeth's  brief  spasm  of  conventional- 
ity melted  before  this  seductive  suggestion. 
"Gorgeous!"  she  exclaimed,  approvingly. 
"  Go  and  ask  Brown  if  there  is  any  way  to  get 
out,  and  if  there  is,  that  will  be  the  very 
thing." 

In  a  minute  Dodge  was  back.  "  There  's  a 
trap-door  and  a  movable  ladder.  Could  you 
manage  a  ladder  ?  "  he  asked,  hopefully. 

"  Easily.  If  you  're  equal  to  carrying  these 
two  chairs  up  two  flights  of  stairs  and  a  ladder, 
I  'm  equal  to  the  ladder  ! "  She  caught  up  a 
yellow  liberty  scarf  and  followed,  with  a  pleas- 
urable little  feeling  of  excitement,  while  with- 
out another  word  Calvert  picked  up  the  chairs 
and  strode  ahead,  carrying  them  as  easily  as 
straws.  He  mounted  the  ladder  first  and 
reached  down  a  helping  hand,  which  Elizabeth 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      171 

spurned.  "  My  foot  is  on  my  native  heath," 
she  said.  "  Did  you  ever  know  a  tomboy  ? 
Well,  I  'm  evolved  from  one,  Mr.  Dodge ! 
Oh  ! "  as  her  dark  head  emerged  from  the  little 
square  door ;  "  Oh  !  is  n't  this  glorious !  Why, 
there  is  a  whole  block  of  flat-roofs,  is  n't  there  ? 
And  what  a  delicious  breeze." 

She  scrambled  out  with  an  ease  which  Cal- 
vert  would  have  thought  impossible  for  a  being 
swathed  in  petticoats,  and  stood  beside  him  on 
the  ridged  tin,  looking  along  the  scalloped 
vista  of  roofs  which  stretched  to  the  north. 

It  was  not  quite  dark  yet,  but  the  night  was 
coming  fast.  To  the  left,  low  in  the  west,  hung 
the  tiny  new  moon,  which  brightened  momen- 
tarily ;  and  as  they  gazed,  a  golden  snake 
etched  its  graceful  length  on  the  soft  sky,  its 
crest  bursting  silently  into  a  cluster  of  silvery 
stars,  which  disappeared,  leaving  a  little  vapory 
cloud  behind. 

"  How  beautiful  !  Oh,  and  there,  and  there, 
and  there ! "  cried  the  girl  excitedly,  as  the 
dark  city  began  to  send  up  fiery  blossoms  in 


i;2  As  Having  Nothing 

every  direction.  "  Oh,  I  want  to  have  eyes 
all  around  my  head  !  I  'm  so  afraid  we  '11  miss 
something  !  Where  shall  we  put  the  chairs  ?  " 

"Let's  walk  along  a  little.  Most  of  the 
works  are  to  be  set  off  from  Grant's  Tomb, 
and  that  tall  apartment-house  over  there  will 
be  just  in  our  way  here,  I  think." 

They  moved  on,  passing  several  chimneys, 
whose  warm  breath  fanned  their  faces.  "  Poor, 
hot  houses,"  Elizabeth  said,  fancifully  ;  "  I  'in  so 
sorry  they  can't  get  out  on  their  own  roofs  ! " 

Calvert  arranged  the  chairs  at  a  point  from 
which  they  could  get  an  uninterrupted  view  of 
that  part  of  the  city  in  which  the  special  dis- 
play was  to  take  place.  The  long,  curving 
Hudson  crept,  a  silent,  silvery  stream,  to  the 
left ;  and  all  around  them  lay  the  habitations 
of  the  thousands  who  were  all  more  or  less 
moved  by  a  common  impulse  to-night.  The 
thought  struck  Calvert.  "  That 's  what  I  like 
about  a  national  holiday  like  this,"  he  said, 
warmly,  "  the  feeling  it  gives  one  that  the  whole 
world  is  kin.  At  ordinary  times  looking  down 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      173 

from  a  height  like  this,  one  has  such  a  solitary 
feeling.  One  wonders,  vaguely,  about  the 
myriad  aims  and  thoughts  which  are  animating 
a  myriad  impenetrable  souls ;  and  the  fact  that 
we  can  guess  at  no  single  other  heart  in  a  vast 
cityful  than  our  own,  brings  such  a  boundless 
sense  of  isolation,  such  a  cold  realization  of  the 
diversity  of  interests  in  this  world  we  share 
together.  To-night  I  feel  in  touch  with  every- 
one. Humanity  is  simplified  for  the  moment, 
and  we  are  all  of  one  brotherhood,  because  of 
the  remembrance  of  the  loyalty  and  bravery 
of  our  common  fathers  ! " 

"  That  is  a  pretty  thought.  I  have  had  some- 
thing the  same  idea,  without  putting  it  into 
words,  sometimes  on  Sunday,  when  the  whole 
world  seems  to  rest,  and  nature's  quietness  is 
extended  to  human  nature  as  well,  so  that  we 
feel  our  kinship  with  everything  in  the  uni- 
verse, and  seem  to  be  assured  that  we  are  all, — 
rocks  and  trees,  animals,  and  the  little  human 
race,  the  work  of  one  mind." 

It    was  very  seldom   that     Elizabeth    felt 


174  As  Having  Nothing 

prompted  to  express  her  thoughts  so  distinctly, 
even  to  herself.  She  was  a  girl  to  whom  feel- 
ing was  sufficient  in  itself  ;  to  whom  words 
seemed,  at  best,  such  an  artificial,  labored  cage- 
making  for  thoughts  and  emotions,  which  with- 
out them  could  soar  far  into  the  infinite.  But 
somehow,  it  seemed  natural  to  be  talking  of 
inner  things  to-night,  high  above  the  world,  and 
so  peculiarly  alone  with  this  man,  who  at  one 
and  the  same  time  gave  her  a  disturbing  sen- 
sation of  her  corners,  and  an  impulse  to  be  her 
real,  natural  self,  even  at  the  risk  of  shocking 
and  surprising  him. 

"  That  is  a  prettier  thought ! "  said  Calvert, 
in  a  low  voice.  Suddenly,  to  the  right,  an  es- 
pecially beautiful  rocket  rose,  cleaving  the  sky 
with  a  slow,  deliberate  ambition  and  dignity 
that  was  very  impressive.  Up,  up,  up  !  Both 
of  the  star-gazers  watched  it  with  a  breathless 
interest,  as  if  they  could  help  it  to  mount  by 
their  sympathy.  Its  height  was  reached  at 
last  and  it  broke  with  a  gracious  completion 
and  fulfilment  that  was  absolutely  satisfying. 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      175 

"  They  are  all  like  lives  ! "  cried  Elizabeth 
suddenly.  "  That  last  would  be  a  beautiful  way 
to  live — rising  steadily  and  slowly,  until  all 
eyes  are  watching  in  prophetic  encouragement. 
Then,  at  the  moment  of  one's  greatest  altitude, 
exceeding  every  expectation  by  a  brilliant  rev- 
elation, and  then  dying  while  the  world  looks 
on  and  marvels.  So  much  better  than  to  live 
on  after  one's  best  has  been  attained — like 
that  one!  See!"  eagerly,  "  to  wait  and  turn 
earthward  again,  displaying  one's  genius,  not 
when  one's  soul  is  inspired  by  the  height  and 
the  stars,  but  after  one  has  come  back  into 
the  worldly  atmosphere  once  more, — 'to  be 
seen  of  men  ' ! " 

"  Perhaps  that  one  got  an  inspiration  from 
the  stars  and  took  the  message  back  to  earth — 
less  self-sufficient  than  the  other,  caring  more 
for  humanity." 

"No,  he  did  n't !  It  was  mere  earthly  van- 
ity. If  the  stars  had  inspired  him  he  could 
not  have  helped  revealing  it  when  he  was 
nearest  to  them.  It  is  only  when  genius  is 


i76  As  Having  Nothing 

forced  out  of  one  by  height  of  soul,  that  the 
result  is  helpful,  because  then  alone  it  could  be 
true  !  " 

Elizabeth  was  growing  eager  over  her  fan- 
cied individualities,  and  the  man  at  her  side 
responded  to  her  mood  with  a  zest  that  was 
very  real.  "  How  about  that  one?"  he  said  ; 
"  guess  which  that  one  will  be  ?" 

"Neither,"  said  the  girl,  decidedly;  "that 
one  is  going  to  overreach  himself,  I  'm  sure. 
There  is  something  unnaturally  theatrical  in 
the  way  he  takes  his  flight.  He  spends  too 
much  time  on  the  flight  itself.  There,  I  told 
you  so,"  as  the  rocket,  reaching  its  utmost, 
suddenly,  with  a  slight  explosion,  went  out  in 
utter  darkness,  leaving  a  sense  of  disappoint- 
ment in  its  wake. 

"  That  chap  fired  his  pistol  at  the  stars 
right  enough,  but  it  was  just  a  flash  in  the  pan, 
poor  fellow,  and  he  made  so  much  ado  about 
getting  ready  that  the  denouement  seemed 
absurd." 

From  the  courtyard  of  a  neighboring  apart- 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      177 

ment-house  some  one  now  began  to  set  off 
Roman  candles,  whose  soft  balls  of  colored 
light  flared  and  fled  one  after  the  other  in 
quick  succession,  with  a  hollow  puff  of  sound, 
across  the  night.  At  the  same  moment  they 
were  conscious  of  a  diffusion  of  light,  and 
faced  about  quickly  to  find  the  northern  sky 
suddenly  ablaze  with  a  whirlpool  of  fiery  stars 
that  were  flung  out  in  a  dazzling  rain  from  the 
center.  It  was  the  beginning  of  the  River- 
side display,  and  after  this,  gorgeousness  after 
gorgeousness  followed  each  other  in  quick 
succession,  till  one  almost  wearied  of  the  in- 
genuity which  it  must  have  taken  to  plan  these 
complicated  but  instantaneous  glories. 

"  Hello,  there ! "  cried  a  voice,  suddenly, 
which  appeared  to  come  from  nowhere.  Eliza- 
beth jumped  a  little,  but  Calvert  had  recog- 
nized the  tones  and  shouted  back,  "  Is  that 
you,  Linton  ?  Here  we  are,  old  man  ! "  And 
in  a  minute  they  made  out  a  black  silhouette, 
moving  cautiously  towards  them  over  the  roofs. 

"  Great  Scott !  I  'm  blind  as  a  bat,  coming  up 


178  As  Having  Nothing 

out  of  the  light ! "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  reached 
them.  "  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Wallace  ? 
How  are  you,  Calvert  ?  I  didn't  expect  to 
find  you  here.  I  dropped  in  to  wish  you  many 
happy  returns  of  the  day,  Miss  Wallace,  and 
would  have  retired  gracefully  after  I  had  rung 
six  times  in  vain,  but  the  obliging  menial 
down-stairs  volunteered  the  information  that 
you  were  star-gazing  on  the  roof,  and  I  rose  to 
the  occasion.  I  hope  you  're  glad  to  see  me, 
now  I  'm  here  ? "  he  ended,  beseechingly,  and 
Elizabeth  laughed  merrily. 

"  Of  course  I  am.  You  are  as  welcome  as 
possible  to  our  roof-garden.  It  is  n't  very 
much  like  a  garden  at  first  sight,  perhaps,  but 
there  are  our  flowers,"  and  she  pointed  to  an 
elaborate  specimen  of  fireworks  of  the  genus 
flower-pot  which  was  glowing  at  that  moment 
on  Riverside  Drive. 

"  Jove  !  You  do  get  a  good  view  from 
here,  don't  you  ?  I  'm  gladder  and  gladder  that 
I  came  !  It 's  worth  the  climb."  And  Linton 
settled  himself  luxuriously  against  a  warm 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      179 

chimney  and  then  quickly  removed  to  a  cooler, 
if  less  comfortable,  position  on  the  roof,  at 
Elizabeth's  feet. 

"  How  do  you  come  to  be  in  town  to-day  of 
all  days  ?  "  queried  Calvert,  with  a  laudable  de- 
termination to  make  his  voice  sound  as  cordial 
as  Miss  Wallace's  had  been. 

"  Work  ! "  said  the  young  man  addressed, 
laconically,  taking  out  a  cigarette,  which  he 
held  up  mutely  towards  Miss  Wallace,  who 
nodded  ;  whereat  he  proceeded  to  light  it  and 
puff  away  lazily. 

Dodge  and  Miss  Wallace  both  laughed 
rather  scoffingly,  but  Linton  persisted. 
"  Fact ! "  he  said,  briefly  and  vigorously. 

"  Come  now,  Bertie,  you  're  wool-gather- 
ing!" 

"  And  don't  you  call  that  work,  this  hot 
weather?"  he  retorted,  imperturbably.  "  Look ! " 
with  a  wave  of  his  cigarette  towards  a  lumi- 
nous nebula  which  grew  slowly  from  a  star 
which  had  risen  quietly,  "  is  n't  that  great  ?" 

"  Who  is  it,  please,  Miss  Wallace  ? "  asked 


i8o  As  Having  Nothing 

Calvert,  with  a  droll  appeal  in  his  voice,  and 
a  low  aside  which  seemed  to  surround  their 
previous  fancyings  with  an  atmosphere  of 
familiarity,  which  Elizabeth  herself  had  felt 
and,  therefore,  somehow  resented. 

"  That  is  no  one, — living"  she  said,  in  a 
clear  voice,  which  ignored  the  aside ;  "  that  is 
an  angel.  Isn  't  it  radiant  and  beautiful  ? 
And  did  you  notice  how  modestly  it  rose 
through  its  brief  life?  There's  a  lesson  for 
you  both ! " 

"  Eh,  what  ? "  said  Bertram,  bewildered, 
"  an  angel,  where  ?  " 

Elizabeth  laughed.  "  We  have  been  making 
believe  the  fireworks  were  people,  and  saying 
what  sort  of  lives  they  reminded  us  of,"  she 
explained. 

"  Good  enough  !  Let  me  into  the  game 
too.  I  haven 't  made  believe  since  I  was  a 
little  chap.  There  's  a  bumptious  old  duffer 
making  splurge  enough ! "  as  a  whizzing  pin- 
wheel  affair  shot  whistling  up  in  the  air,  from 
somewhere  beneath  them,  in  a  self-important 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      181 

agitation.  "  I  tell  you  what,  let's  name  the 
rockets.  That  '11  be  fun  !  "  he  ended,  entering 
into  the  spirit  of  the  thing,  but  putting  a 
personal  interpretation  on  it  which  gave  both 
Elizabeth  and  Calvert  a  curious  little  feeling 
of  disinclination, — the  rockets  had  been  so 
real ! 

"  Let  the  first  one  that  goes  up  typify  Miss 
Wallace,"  he  continued,  his  imagination  ex- 
panding to  meet  the  situation.  "  Look  well, 
Miss  Wallace,  this  settles  your  career,"  he 
ended,  warningly,  as  a  rocket  began  its  ascent. 

Elizabeth  bent  forward  with  an  absurd  ea- 
gerness. What  would  it  do,  break  near  the 
earth,  or  climb  to  the  heights  she  craved,  and 
burst  in  splendor  ;  or  still  worse,  would  it  shoot 
at  a  star  and  "  flash  in  the  pan  "  ? 

Up  went  the  emblem  of  her  fate,  up  and 
on  ;  but  with  a  curiously  deviating  path,  dif- 
ferent from  any  they  had  yet  seen,  hesitating 
and  gaining,  hesitating  and  gaining,  till — "  ah  ! " 
— she  drew  in  her  breath  with  a  funny  little 
exclamation  of  involuntary  relief.  For  at  a 


1 82  As  Having  Nothing 

sufficiently  aspiring  height,  the  emblem  of  her 
fate  had  opened  into  a  flower-like  cluster,  which 
shed  a  serene  radiance  on  their  upturned  faces. 

"  Bravo  ! "  cried  Linton  and  Dodge,  together. 
"  Your  success  was  a  foregone  conclusion 
though,  Miss  Wallace,"  added  Linton  gal- 
lantly. "  Now  for  Calvert's.  The  next  is  his. 
I  am  setting  up  this  little  game,  so  I  '11  wait 
till  the  last.  There  you  go,  old  man." 

It  was  Calvert's  turn  to  feel  fearful ;  and  as 
he  watched,  he  was  conscious  of  the  same  odd 
excitement  over  the  foolish  play  which  had 
clutched  at  Elizabeth's  heart  a  minute  before. 
The  rocket  started  well,  with  a  vigorous  de- 
termination to  reach  the  stars,  which  reas- 
sured him ;  but  suddenly  his  heart  stood  still. 
When  it  had  mounted  to  but  half  the  distance 
it  might  have  been  expected  to  attain,  it  burst 
silently  with  a  paltry  spark. 

For  an  instant  they  all  thought  that  it  was 
an  abortive  one,  for  no  illumination  followed. 
"  Flashed  in  the  pan  !  "  muttered  Dodge,  with 
an  ill-concealed  chagrin.  But  suddenly,— 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      183 

"  Look  ! "  cried  Elizabeth,  pointing  to  the 
spark,  which  swelled  brilliantly,  and  then 
floated  softly  away  up  the  sky  like  a  golden 
dream. 

"  By  Jove  !  a  balloon  ! "  cried  Linton.  "  I 
congratulate  you,  old  boy  !  You  're  a  surprise 
and  success  as  well.  Doesn't  it  mean  that, 
Miss  Wallace  ?  " 

"  It  is  at  least  something  more  lasting  than 
any  of  the  others,"  said  Elizabeth  warmly. 
"  Now  for  your  fate,  Mr.  Linton." 

"  Oh,  but  let  me  out !  "  begged  that  worthy. 
"  I  assure  you,  this  is  too  much  for  my  nerves. 
A  cold  perspiration  bespangles  my  brow !  If 
I  should  prove  a  dead  failure  after  you  two 
shining  lights,  I  assure  you  I  should  be  des- 
perate enough  to  fall  to  the  ground  like  my 
own  stick.  By  the  way,  they  all  have  sticks 
that  fall  to  the  ground  after  the  display — just 
commonplace  sticks,  Miss  Wallace.  What  do 
you  make  of  that  ?  " 

"  Their  outgrown  bodies,  of  course,"  cried 
Elizabeth,  readily.  "  The  soul  flies  away  in 


1 84  As  Having  Nothing 

that  little  puff  of  vapor  that  floats  off  after  the 
illumination.  Have  n't  you  noticed  it  ?  But 
you  sha'  n't  escape,  Mr.  Linton,  or  make  us 
forget  to  find  out  your  future.  The  very  next 
one  is  yours,  do  you  hear  ? " 

Bertram  groaned,  "  All  right,  I  cave.  But 
if  there  's  one  thing  I  detest  above  all  others, 
it  is  being  forced  to  see  myself  as  others  see 
me." 

"There  you  go!"  cried  Calvert  cheerfully, 
as  another  rocket  raised  its  head  above  the 
roof-tops.  "  Good  luck  go  with  you,  Bertram  ! " 

Alas  and  alas  !  When  the  rocket  broke,  a 
long  string  of  light  was  all  that  appeared  ;  and 
that  hung  in  the  sky  in  an  aimless  way  that 
provoked  Linton  to  righteous  wrath.  "  Did 
you  ever  see  such  a  do-less  idiot  ?  "  he  cried  in 
disgust.  "  It  just  hangs  there,  like  a  caterpil- 
lar from  a  branch,  waving  in  the  breeze  ! " 

"  No  aim  in  life,  Bertie,"  reminded  Calvert, 
reminiscently.  "  What  more  could  you  expect  ? 
That 's  the  penalty  you  have  to  pay.  But  you 
are  a  sufficiently  brilliant  object,  as  you  dangle 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      185 

before  the  eyes  of  the  multitude,  if  you  do 
appear  rather  aimless." 

Linton  puffed  savagely  at  his  cigarette. 
"  Take  care  !  the  worm  sometimes  turns  !  I 
call  this  a  beastly  shame,  to  make  an  example 
of  me  in  the  heavens  like  that.  Look,  I  'm 
actually  turning  blue,"  he  added  sulkily. 

Sure  enough,  the  thing  was  changing  color. 
"  You  Ve  grace  enough  to  blush  over  your  in- 
action, at  any  rate,"  laughed  Elizabeth,  as  it 
became  gradually  crimson.  "  Why,  see  there  ! " 
she  cried  eagerly.  For  suddenly  a  curious 
thing  happened.  Another  rocket  rose  swiftly 
beneath  Linton's,  which  had  hung  fire  so 
provokingly,  and  some  spark  from  its  trail 
evidently  added  the  needed  impetus.  The 
two  rockets  exploded  together  in  a  blaze  of 
glory  that  was  ample  reward  for  the  long  in- 
decision. 

"  Well!"  ejaculated  Elizabeth,  "  how  do  you 
explain  that,  Mr.  Dodge  ?  " 

"  Some  outside  influence  was  needed  to  wake 
him  up,  I  guess,"  laughed  Dodge,  in  a  con- 


1 86  As  Having  Nothing 

strained  little  way.  "  Your  all-powerful  '  drop ' 
Bertie,"  he  added  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Yes,"  answered  that  young  man,  simply,  in 
an  impressed  tone,  which  showed  how  seriously 
he  had  taken  the  omen,  and  which  caused  Cal- 
vert  to  glance  at  him  quickly.  Instinctively, 
at  the  same  moment,  Linton  looked  covertly  at 
Dodge  ;  and  in  the  minds  of  both  men,  a  name 
was  given  to  that  second  rocket. 

Linton  leaned  back  on  the  roof,  with  his 
hands  clasped  under  his  head,  and  his  face 
turned  towards  the  stars.  "  Stella  di  nostra 
amore,"  he  began  to  sing,  in  a  clear,  sweet  tenor, 
in  which  a  deeper  quality,  like  an  undertone 
of  thoughtfulness,  was  apparent.  For  a  mo- 
ment Calvert  struggled  with  an  inclination  to 
join  in.  There  was  something  so  irresistible 
in  the  familiarly  sweet,  sad,  Neapolitan  music. 
More  than  ever,  to-night,  it  appealed  to  him, 
in  some  undefined,  subtile  fashion  ;  and  almost 
against  his  will  he  began  to  pour  out  his  ap- 
preciation in  his  deep,  full  baritone,  which  sur- 
rounded and  blended  with  Bertram's  higher 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      187 

tones,  as  the  deeper,  richer  chords  played  with 
a  left  hand  on  an  organ  encroach  upon,  yet 
harmonize  with,  the  lighter,  upper  notes. 

Elizabeth  listened,  spellbound.  How  beau- 
tiful it  was,  the  dear,  the  dear  old  air  !  Oh, 
Italy !  Italy !  How  the  music  fanned  that 
southern  fire  of  her  nature,  till  the  wild  beating 
of  her  heart  oppressed  her  strangely.  Suddenly 
she  felt  that  Calvert's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her 
as  he  sang,  and  in  the  same  instant  the  passion 
in  his  voice  connected  itself  with  his  absorbing 
interest  in  his  ideal, — with  Joan  so  far  across 
the  water.  With  the  thought,  the  usual,  swift 
sense  of  comparison,  which  always  ended 
in  self-disparagement  and  self-dissatisfaction, 
swept  over  her.  Into  the  softened,  glowing 
face  which  Calvert  was  watching  as  he  sang, 
came  the  old  expression  of  cold,  unwittingly 
disdainful  reserve,  and  at  the  same  instant,  the 
baritone  voice  ceased  abruptly. 

The  tenor  warbled  on  blissfully  for  a  mo- 
ment and  then  stopped  too.  Elizabeth  had 
risen,  and  now  moved  uncertainly  forward  a 


1 88  As  Having  Nothing 

pace  or  two.  Both  the  men  followed  her. 
She  was  standing  quite  close  to  the  edge  of 
the  roof,  looking  across  to  the  next  house, 
which  was  here  separated  from  the  rest  in  the 
block  by  a  narrow  chute  ;  so  narrow,  indeed, 
that  it  seemed  as  if  one  might  almost  step  across. 

"  I  have  the  most  horrible  inclination  to  see 
if  I  could  jump  over  to  that  next  roof,"  she 
said,  with  a  quick,  little  shiver.  "  I  believe  I 
will  try." 

"  You  are  crazy ! "  exclaimed  Calvert,  impetu- 
ously. "  The  distance  is  frightfully  deceptive, 
and  besides,  it  would  be  foolhardy  in  the  ex- 
treme for  even  a  man  to  attempt  such  a  thing." 

His  masterful  tone  stung  the  girl.  "A 
man  ! "  she  said,  scornfully  ;  "why,  it  would  be 
nothing  for  a  man  who  had  the  slightest  nerve. 
Don't  you  agree  with  me,  Mr.  Linton  ?" 

Linton  had  moved  backward  a  few  paces 
while  they  were  speaking.  For  all  answer  he 
took  three  quick  leaping  steps,  and  before  the 
girl  could  get  her  breath  again  he  had  landed 
lightly  on  the  other  side. 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      189 

Elizabeth  had  gasped  painfully,  and  in  that 
one  second,  while  his  dark  figure  had  been 
suspended  in  the  air,  she  had  blamed  herself 
with  an  intensity  that  left  her  trembling  like  a 
baby.  She  could  hardly  get  her  voice,  and 
when  she  spoke  it  was  in  a  pitiful  little  whis- 
per, while  she  clutched  Calvert's  coat  between 
shaking  fingers,  as  she  divined  that  Linton 
was  preparing  to  jump  back.  "  Oh,  don't, 
don't  let  him  do  it  again  ! "  she  pleaded,  her 
face  shining  white  in  the  starlight.  "  Don't ! — 
for  pity's  sake,  stop  him,  Mr.  Dodge  ! " 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Bertie ! "  roared  Dodge, 
with  an  emphasis  that  checked  the  other  as  he 
was  about  to  start.  "  You  've  almost  fright- 
ened Miss  Wallace  out  of  her  senses.  Go 
back  the  other  way,  farther  up,  where  the 
roofs  join ! " 

"  Oh,  please,  please  do,  Mr.  Linton  ! "  im- 
plored Elizabeth,  wildly ;  "  if  you  had  fallen,  I 
should  have  felt  like  a  murderer !  Go  back 
the  other  way  ! " 

"  Why,  it 's  nothing,"  laughed  Linton,  easily, 


1 90  As  Having  Nothing 

"  nothing  at  all.  I  have  jumped  twice  that 
distance  in  my  time." 

"  I  forbid  you  to  do  it ! "  said  Elizabeth, 
with  a  concentrated  earnestness  that  carried 
its  weight  with  the  reckless  fellow. 

"  Oh,  all  right.  Of  course  I  won't  if  you 
don't  want  me  to,"  he  answered,  "but  it's 
really  nothing,  you  know,"  and  he  turned  and 
made  his  way  back  to  them  by  the  route 
Dodge  had  indicated. 

Calvert  turned  to  Elizabeth,  who  was  still  a 
little  pale.  "  It  is  a  shame  you  were  so  fright- 
ened," he  said,  considerately  ;  "  but  Bertram 's 
a  famous  athlete,  you  know, — used  to  beat  us 
all  in  the  high  jump  at  college,  when  the 
mood  took  him  to  practise  a  bit.  Funny  that 
a  man  who  usually  seems  so  lazy  should  be 
able  to  keep  his  muscles  so  well  in  trim.  It 
really  was  less  dangerous  for  him  than  for 
most  men.  I  suppose  there  was  actually  very 
little  risk,  as  he  said.  But  it  was  foolish  to  at- 
tempt it,  all  the  same,  and  he  ought  to  have 
thought  how  it  would  have  affected  you." 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      191 

"  It  was  extremely  daring,"  said  Elizabeth, 
perversely,  resenting  this  consideration.  "  I 
cannot  help  admiring  his  nerve,  even  if  it  was 
foolish." 

She  gave  Linton  a  bright  smile  as  he  joined 
them,  and  said,  warmly,  "  Mr.  Dodge  thinks 
you  deserve  the  worst  sort  of  a  scolding,  but  I 
think  it  is  I  who  should  be  lectured  for  putting 
the  thought  into  your  head.  And  anyway  you 
did  it  so  beautifully  that,  now  it 's  over,  I  can't 
help  congratulating  you.  But  you  must  never 
do  such  a  rash  thing  again,"  she  added, 
quickly,  as  the  horrible  picture  which  her 
imagination  had  conjured  up  at  the  instant  of 
the  jump — of  Bertram's  lifeless  body  lying  an 
inert,  shapeless  heap  on  the  paved  alley-way 
below — recurred  vividly.  If  his  foot  had 
slipped,  what  an  immeasurable  gulf  would  have 
separated  her  feeling  from  the  light  tone  she 
had  just  adopted !  It  was  only  chance  that 
something  so  dreadful  as  to  shatter  her  whole 
life  with  its  horror  had  not  occurred.  She 
felt  the  strong  necessity  of  shaking  off  the 


192  As  Having  Nothing 

shuddering  gravity  which  this  realization  of 
the  possibility  of  a  tragedy  engendered.  Af- 
ter all,  a  miss  was  as  good  as  a  mile  ! 

Calvert  evidently  divined  her  thoughts,  and 
with  the  intention  of  diverting  them,  he  drew 
her  attention  to  a  superb  fountain  of  fireworks 
that  was  playing,  unnoticed  at  the  moment, 
and  said,  with  a  laudable  but  clumsy  wish  to 
get  her  mind  back  on  its  former  happy  hunt- 
ing-ground :  "  I  don't  wonder  they  dance  and 
leap  in  the  air  like  joyous  butterflies,  freed 
from  the  paper  chrysalises  in  which  they  have 
lain  sleeping  so  long.  I  wonder  if  they 
dreamed  there  of  this  sudden  release  into  the 
soft  night  air,  and  the  exhilaration  of  the  in- 
tense moment  when  they  should  flutter  their 
brilliant  wings  in  the  eyes  of  all." 

But  Elizabeth  had  been  moved  to  the  depths 
of  her  nature,  and  a  nervous,  irritable  mood 
was  the  result.  She  felt  something  in  Cal- 
vert's  voice  which  rasped  her  unbearably,  just 
as  a  child  who  is  conscious  of  its  wrong-doing 
appreciates  and  resents  the  soothing  words 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      193 

of  an  elder  person  who  is  striving  to  humor 
it  back  to  reason. 

"  I  'm  tired  of  fireworks,"  she  said,  rather 
imperiously,  and  taking  no  notice  of  poor 
Cal vert's  pretty,  if  rather  forced,  simile.  "  Sup- 
pose we  go  down." 

Accordingly,  they  retraced  their  steps  across 
the  roofs  almost  in  silence ;  even  Bertram  a 
trifle  subdued,  strange  to  say.  But  when 
they  had  reached  Elizabeth's  rooms,  and  the 
two  men  were  taking  their  departure,  her 
manner  towards  Linton  was  gracious  in  the 
extreme  ;  while  Calvert  had  the  feeling  that, 
somehow,  by  some  mysterious  perversion,  it 
was  he  who  was  in  disgrace  for  Bertie's  mis- 
demeanor, and  the  scapegoat  of  the  whole 
disturbing  incident. 

"When  shall  you  care  to  go  down  to  the 
East  Side  again  and  finish  your  sketch  of 
Biddy,  Miss  Wallace?"  he  asked,  just  before 
he  left.  "  We  had  better  make  an  arrange- 
ment now,  I  think." 

"No    arrangement    is    necessary,"    she  an- 


194  As  Having  Nothing 

swered  quickly,  with  a  chilling  politeness.  "  It 
is  not  worth  while  to  take  your  time  again, 
since  you  have  all  your  notes.  I  shall  go  alone." 

"  But  I  could  not  think  of  letting  you  go 
to  that  part  of  the  city  by  yourself — "  began 
Calvert,  decidedly. 

Elizabeth  stopped  him  with  a  haughtily 
questioning  elevation  of  her  expressive  eye- 
brows. "  I  don't  understand.  I  am  perfectly 
capable  of  taking  care  of  myself.  I  shall 
certainly  go  alone,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  that 
apparently  settled  the  matter. 

Calvert  shrugged  his  shoulders,  with  the 
first  approach  to  rudeness  she  had  ever  noticed 
in  him,  and  let  the  subject  drop  ;  and  a 
moment  later  Elizabeth's  two  visitors  had  left 
the  house  together. 

"  What  part  of  the  city  are  you  bound  for, 
Bertram  ?  "  asked  Dodge,  as  they  reached  the 
street. 

"  The  Waldorf,  to-night ;  and  for  yet  a  while, 
until  I  get  time  to  look  about  for  permanent 
diggings." 


An  Impromptu  Roof-Garden      195 

"Then  you  were  really  in  earnest  this  eve- 
ning about  being  here  on  business  ?  "  inquired 
Dodge  curiously. 

Linton  laughed  somewhat  bitterly. 

"  In  earnest  at  last,  why  don't  you  say?  I 
wish  people  would  n't  be  so  infernally  surprised. 
It 's  true,  though  ;  and  it 's  certainly  time  I  was 
of  some  use  in  the  world,  if  I  'm  ever  going  to 
be.  I  did  hope  you,  at  least,  would  understand, 
Calvert." 

Something — a  sort  of  genuine  appeal  in  his 
voice — affected  Calvert  suddenly.  "  Don't 
be  an  idiot,  Bertie  ;  you  know  I  always  said  you 
were  cut  out  for  a  day-laborer,  and  believe  in 
you  down  to  the  ground,"  he  replied  warmly. 
Then,  more  slowly,  "  I  think  that  I  do  under- 
stand you,  old  fellow.  And  what 's  more,  I 
think  I  can  guess  that  there  is  a  woman  at  the 
bottom  of  this  new  development  of  yours." 

Linton  turned  and  met  his  friend's  eyes 
frankly.  "  I  won't  deny  it,  Calvert,"  he  said ; 
"  and  what 's  more,  I  believe  there  is  a  woman 
at  the  bottom  of  everything  that 's  worth  any- 


As  Having  Nothing 

thing  under  the  sun.  You  understand,  how- 
ever, that  I  can't  talk  about  it  yet.  It's  all 
too  utterly  uncertain  ;  but  if  there  is  anything 
in  this  world  I  can  do  or  be  to  deserve  her, 
I  will  leave  no  stone  unturned,  you  may  be 
sure.  Wish  me  luck,  old  man  ! " 

They  were  standing  on  the  platform  of  the 
Elevated  by  this  time,  and  as  a  Sixth  Avenue 
train  pulled  in,  Bertram  held  out  his  hand  with 
an  expression  of  eager  determination.  Calvert 
shook  it  earnestly,  and  in  another  moment 
Linton  had  stepped  aboard  and  was  whirled 
away  towards  the  Waldorf ;  while  Dodge,  left 
alone  on  the  platform,  remained  waiting  for 
a  Ninth  Avenue  train  to  trundle  him  down 
to  his  depressing  boarding-house. 


CHAPTER  X 

BELLIGERENCY 

"  I  cannot  draw  a  map  of  Love,  and  show 

The  ins  and  outs  of  all  that  boundary  line 
Where  Friendship  ends  and  Love  begins  ;  ah  no  ! 
The  art 's  not  mine. 

"  Some  day,  perhaps,  you  '11  push  the  chase  too  far 

Within  those  hills,  O  rash  and  reckless  youth, 
And  see  the  enemy  surround  you  !     Ah, 
What  then,  forsooth?" 

ABOUT  six  o'clock  on  the  following 
Wednesday  afternoon,  Elizabeth  Wal- 
lace was  threading  her  way  through  Rivington 
Street  towards  the  Elevated  Railroad.  She 
had  had  a  very  successful  afternoon,  and  the 
familiar  black  sketch-box  under  her  arm  con- 
tained the  most  altogether  satisfactory  illustra- 
tion she  had  yet  made.  It  had  been  a  pleasant 
visit  in  every  way,  and  Elizabeth  had  not  felt 


198  As  Having  Nothing 

sorry  to  have  made  it  entirely  by  herself.  Like 
unto  Calvert  Dodge,  in  the  matter  of  good 
works,  she  was  ever  loath  to  let  her  left  hand 
know  what  its  generous  fellow  was  about ;  and 
on  this  her  last  visit  to  Mrs.  Mulcahey,  she 
had  planned  and  executed  several  little  parting 
surprises  in  the  way  of  most  welcome  additions 
to  the  family  wardrobe  and  larder.  So  that 
it  was  with  a  head  covered  with  unmeasured 
Irish  blessings,  and  a  heart  wrapped  round 
with  the  warmth  of  giving,  that  she  had  turned 
homeward  a  little  later  than  usual. 

Several  times  while  painting  in  the  dark 
little  room,  she  had  caught  herself  referring, 
mentally  and  cordially,  to  Calvert's  ready 
judgment  in  the  matter  of  pose  and  general 
effect.  The  subject  was  one  which  had  ap- 
pealed to  her  so  strongly  that  she  had  elected 
to  render  it  in  full  color.  Only  this — Biddy, 
standing  a  tiptoe  by  the  window,  and  "loving" 
a  ruddy  geranium  which  struggled  pluckily  out 
of  a  soap-box,  and  looked  as  absurdly  out  of 
place  in  its  city  tenement  as  did  the  brilliant 


Belligerency  199 

slip  of  a  human  flower.  The  original,  by  the 
way,  dedicated  to  Biddy,  was  later  sold,  and 
brought  a  sum  sufficient  to  have  transplanted 
both  blossoms  to  their  natural  soil  and  paid 
the  gardening  bills  for  an  entire  year.  In  the 
adventurous  ray  of  sunlight  which  had  pierced 
through  chinks  of  roofs  and  chimneys  to  Mrs. 
Mulcahey's  window,  Biddy's  hair  floated  and 
gleamed,  a  flossy  film  of  coppery  gold  ;  while 
flower  and  bright  face  laughed  out  richly  from 
the  sombre,  poverty-stricken  room.  Such  bril- 
liancy of  chiaro-oscuro  was  Elizabeth's  special 
passion  ;  and  the  rare  delight  of  managing  with 
unusual  success  an  unusually  congenial  motif 
stroked  every  nerve  in  her  body  the  right  way, 
and  smoothed  her  into  a  veritable  Sabbath 
mood  of  love  and  charity  to  all  men. 

It  was  this,  perhaps,  combined  with  the  heat, 
that  made  her  so  especially  radiant  and  flushed, 
and  brought  an  involuntary,  little,  flickering 
smile  to  her  lips,  and  an  unconscious,  dancing 
light  to  her  eyes,  as  she  walked  slowly  down 
one  of  the  most  ill-favored  streets  of  New  York. 


200  As  Having  Nothing 

At  any  rate  she  was  a  decidedly  striking  ob- 
ject, as  well  as  an  unusually  beautiful  one,  for 
that  part  of  the  city  and  that  hour  of  the  day. 
So,  evidently,  thought  one  individual,  a  certain 
out-at-elbows,  very  disreputable,  very  unasso- 
ciable  individual  indeed,  with  an  alarmingly  un- 
steady gait,  a  cherry-colored  nose,  one  bleared 
and  watery  blue  eye,  and  another  most  unat- 
tractive black  one.  Elizabeth,  absorbed  in  her 
own  satisfied  thoughts,  was  unaware  of  his  ap- 
proach until  he  had  lunged  up  behind  her,  and 
said  in  a  voice  half  wheedling,  half  threatening, 
"  I  drink,  leddy,  I  drink  ! "  Whereupon  she 
awoke  sharply  from  her  pleasant  day-dreams, 
and  with  a  disgusted  glance  behind  her,  quick- 
ened her  pace  perceptibly. 

Until  now  no  thought  of  the  slight  difference 
of  opinion  which  had  ended  in  her  being  in 
that  part  of  the  city  without  an  escort  had 
crossed  her  mind.  Even  now  she  was  not  at 
all  frightened,  only  filled  with  a  repulsive 
loathing  for  the  ugly,  bloated  figure  that 
lurched  nearer  again,  and  reiterated  solemnly, 


Belligerency  201 

"  I  tell  yer,  leddy,  I  drink.  Yes,  I  drink. 
She  's  shut  the  door  on  me  and  now  my  home 
is  in  er  gutter." 

Elizabeth  glanced  at  him  again,  and  the 
half-shut,  deprecating  expression  of  one  eye  was 
so  marred  by  the  angry  gleam  in  the  other,  that 
she  was  seized  with  an  hysterical  desire  to  laugh. 

"I  der-ink!"  he  repeated,  in  thick  and 
mournful  accents.  "You  mus  rit!"  gasped 
the  girl ;  and  then  the  absurdity  of  the  speech, 
combined  with  her  growing  nervousness,  was 
too  much  for  her  and  her  mouth  twitched  in- 
voluntarily to  a  smile.  Whereat  a  wicked, 
leering  expression  leaped  into  the  man's  face, 
and  with  a  maudlin,  drunken  laugh,  he  reached 
out  and  grasped  her  loosely  yet  roughly  by 
the  arm.  At  the  contact,  Elizabeth's  courage 
oozed  instantly  from  her,  and  she  did  what 
any  most  ordinary,  feeble-minded  woman  would 
have  done — dropped  her  sketch-box,  screamed, 
and  glanced  wildly  around  for  succor,  with  a 
quick  need  springing  in  her  heart  which  ma- 
terialized before  she  could  even  recognize  it 


202  As  Having  Nothing 

Hurrying  up  behind  came  a  tall,  familiar 
figure,  whose  right  hand  shot  suddenly  out  and 
grasped  Elizabeth's  tormentor  firmly  by  the 
back  of  his  rusty  coat  collar.  So  grasped,  he 
was  shaken  vigorously  like  a  puppy  till  his 
teeth  chattered  and  his  little  eyes  rolled  wildly. 
The  motion  seemed  to  clear  his  head,  how- 
ever, for  when  Calvert  let  him  go  with  a  stern 
— "  There !  I  hope  that  will  teach  you  not 
to  molest  a  lady  again  !  What  do  you  mean, 
you  scoundrel  ? " — he  touched  his  battered  hat- 
rim  sheepishly,  and  saying,  meekly,  "  Nothing, 
sir.  Thank  you,  sir,"  departed  with  such  des- 
patch that  his  course  was  almost  straight. 

Calvert  turned  to  Elizabeth  with  an  excited 
flash  in  his  eyes.  But  his  voice  was  quiet 
enough  and  anxious  enough  as  he  asked, 
rapidly,  "  Did  that  rascal  hurt  you  or  insult 
you  before  I  got  here  ?  If  he  did  I  '11  catch 
him  again  and  run  him  in  for  it ! " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Elizabeth,  quickly ;  "  I  don't 
think  he  really  meant  to  hurt  me.  He  did  n't 
touch  me  at  all  until  just  as  you  came  up. — He 


Belligerency  203 

drinks,"  she  added,  nervously,  and  explanato- 
rily, for  that  had  been  the  one  fact  impressed 
upon  her  before  she  had  become  so  alarmed. 

"  So  I  should  infer,  the  brute ! "  answered 
Dodge,  very  seriously,  and  then  they  both 
laughed  at  her  superfluous  statement  of  the 
self-evident  fact.  He  felt  that  Elizabeth  was 
under  a  strain  and  that  the  laugh  relieved  her 
nervousness. 

It  did  immensely,  and  she  recounted  the 
whole  experience  for  his  edification,  and  then, 
pulling  herself  up  abruptly,  turned  towards  him, 
holding  out  her  hand.  "  I  have  n't  thanked 
you  yet.  How  rude  of  me!"  she  said,  smil- 
ing a  little.  Then,  catching  the  answering 
light  in  his  eyes ;  "  I  see  that  you  are  thinking 
you  were  right  about  the  unwisdom  of  my 
coming  down  here  alone.  It's  no  use  denying 
it,  for  your  eyes  are  twinkling  the  '  I  told  you 
so,'  which  your  manly  dignity  prevents  your 
mouth  from  actually  saying.  But  I  still  hold 
that  there  is  small  danger.  This  afternoon  I 
admit  was  an  exception ;  but  I  am  sure  that  I 


204  As  Having  Nothing 

might  walk  here  forever  and  never  meet  with 
such  an  experience  again." 

The  uncertain  bravado  of  her  tone  failed  to 
do  anything  but  amuse  Calvert,  who  was,  for 
the  moment,  in  a  royal  mood.  One  might 
have  laid  this  to  the  fact  that  he  had  just  de- 
monstrated his  opinion  in  the  most  satisfactory 
way.  What  one  of  us  is  disinterested  enough 
not  to  be  glad  of  such  self-substantiation  !  In 
reality,  however,  that  point  was  completely 
subordinate  at  present,  and  the  elation  which 
flooded  his  soul  due  entirely  to  the  fact  that  he 
had  been  able  to  give  actual  bodily  help  to 
this  girl  beside  him,  whose  obstinate  fearless- 
ness and  wilful  independence,  he  was  coming 
to  perceive  more  and  more  certainly,  was  but 
a  proud  shield  held  ever  before  an  unusual 
sensitiveness,  a  most  rare  womanliness.  Dur- 
ing that  brief  interval,  while  he  was  adminis- 
tering the  merited  chastisement,  trivial  and 
momentary  as  the  incident  might  appear,  the 
fierce  world-old  desire  of  soul  and  body  to 
render  service  and  succor  to  one  woman  had 


Belligerency  205 

thralled  him  so  masterfully  that  it  had  taken 
every  ounce  of  will  to  summon  common  sense 
enough  to  let  the  punishment  fit  the  crime,  and 
not  lose  sight  of  the  pitifully  irresponsible 
state  of  the  wretched  creature  in  his  grasp. 
As  they  walked  on,  however ;  with  the  remem- 
brance of  that  sudden,  fierce  sublimation  of 
self,  came  also  the  realization  of  what  such 
godlike  rage  meant — the  conviction  that  it 
was  not  alone  Elizabeth's  safety  and  welfare 
which  he  desired  so  savagely,  but  the  personal 
right  and  privilege  of  securing  it. 

The  thought  was  disquieting,  and  sobered 
him  instantly.  As  they  took  possession  of  a 
double  seat  in  the  Elevated  train,  Calvert  said 
abruptly,  "  I  saw  Bertram  to-day.  We  took 
lunch  together.  He  has  thrown  himself  into 
business  with  his  whole  soul,  it  seems.  Did 
you  know  that  he  had  taken  the  position  of 
art-editor,  at  Scrivener's  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Elizabeth,  interestedly  ; 
"he  came  to  see  me  last  night  and  told  me 
all  about  it.  I  was  so  surprised.  If  ever  a 


206  As  Having  Nothing 

man  seemed  in  earnest,  he  does.  It  is  odd,  for 
I  had  fancied,  from  all  I  had  heard,  that  he  was 
the  very  essence  of  dilettantism  personified." 

"  No,  indeed,"  answered  Calvert  loyally,  "  he 
is  anything  but  that  at  the  core.  Bertram 
has  been  his  own  worst  enemy.  He  has  one 
side  which  would  have  made  the  most  deter- 
mined plodder  of  him  if  he  had  been  born 
on  the  bottom  rung  of  a  hod-carrier's  ladder. 
Perched  at  the  top  of  a  social  stair-case,  he  is 
out  of  place,  and  his  sense  of  humor,  his  self- 
ridicule,  have  so  far  kept  him  inactive.  He 
enjoyed  the  contemplation  of  this  incongruity 
of  his  two  natures,  I  believe ;  but  it  was  only 
a  matter  of  time  when  the  stronger  self  would 
refuse  to  be  laughed  at  any  longer.  You  're 
right,  he  is  in  earnest,  and  in  his  element  at 
last,  with  his  mind  completely  submerged  in 
the  concentration  necessary  to  the  work." 

"Do  you  think  it  will  really  last?"  asked 
Elizabeth.  "  I  wondered,  the  other  night, 
whether  he  were  not  too  impulsive  to  be 
thoroughly  stable." 


Belligerency  207 

"  No,  you  're  wrong  there.  He  is  stability 
itself  at  bottom.  That  jump  of  his,  though 
I  confess  it  looked  like  a  grand-stand  play, 
was  not  so  in  the  least.  It  was  the  merest 
trifle  to  Bertram,  only  a  glimpse  of  his  steady 
supply  of  reserve  energy.  What  made  it 
seem  impulsive  was  the  fact  that  this  reserve 
power  has  been  so  contained  all  his  life.  I 
have  always  thought  the  blood  of  some  mighty 
old  peasant  ancestor  is  in  his  veins  out  of  all 
proportion  to  the  thinner,  bluer  kind.  He  is 
simply  full  of  latent  energy,  mental  and  physi- 
cal ;  and  as  I  say,  it  needed  only  some  influ- 
ence strong  enough  to  push  aside  and  sober 
the  lighter  self  that  always  stood  by  and 
mocked  at  the  prosaic  stability  of  the  real 
man  underneath.  It  is  as  if  some  great,  strong, 
stocky  horse,  with  the  power  to  pull  a  wagon- 
load  of  granite  every  day  and  all  day  long, 
had  allowed  himself  to  be  harnessed  to  a  light 
and  irreproachable  dog-cart.  He  could  pull 
that,  oh  yes  !  And  for  a  time  it  was  amusing  to 
persuade  people  he  was  in  the  proper  place  !  " 


208  As  Having  Nothing 

The  quick  thought  darted  through  Eliza- 
beth's brain — "Yes,  and  you  are  like  a  race- 
horse, plodding  faithfully  along  in  harness ; 
doing  ordinary  work  well  because  it  is  your 
nature  to  do  everything  well,  but  fitted  above 
all  things  for  a  freer,  fleeter  life."  All  she 
said  was,  "  I  believe  you  are  right.  One  must 
feel  that  his  enthusiasm  is  genuine.  But  I 
don't  like  your  saying  it  took  some  outside 
influence  to  make  him  begin  to  live  his  real 
life  ;  although  it  would  be  interesting  to  know 
just  what  has  decided  him  to  desert  the  dog- 
cart, and  employ  all  that  superfluous  energy, 
would  it  not?" 

"  Very  ! "  answered  Calvert,  in  a  curious  tone. 

"Why,  do  you  know?"  asked  Elizabeth 
eagerly. 

The  man  looked  at  her  an  instant  in  a  grave, 
questioning  sort  of  way,  in  such  a  questioning 
way  that,  unaccountably  to  herself,  for  she  was 
still  overwrought,  Elizabeth  felt  herself  grow- 
ing warm  beneath  the  scrutiny  of  his  glance. 

Calvert  turned  his  eyes  slowly  away.     "  I 


Belligerency  209 

think  I  do ;  but  it  is  all  pure  supposition. 
Oh,  it  would  probably  have  come  about  any- 
way. Sooner  or  later,  the  scoffer  would  have 
had  to  go  to  the  wall,  I  fancy."  Then — "  Let 
me  tell  you  about  something  that  happened 
when  we  were  out  West  together.  You  knew, 
did  n't  you,  that  we  were  on  the  same  ranch 
in  New  Mexico  one  summer?" 

"  No,  I  had  not  heard  it.  Do  tell  me  about 
it ! "  said  Elizabeth,  responsively.  "  When 
were  you  out  West,  and  why  ? " 

"It  was  three  years  ago.  I  had  been  hus- 
tling hard  as  night-editor  of  a  paper  in  Cincin- 
nati. It  was  a  campaign  year,  and  I  suppose 
I  drew  a  little  too  heavily  on  my  nervous 
strength.  At  any  rate,  I  had  one  pretty  bad 
headache  which  began  the  first  of  July  and 
lasted  till  well  into  the  fall,  when  I  was  ordered 
to  play  farmer  for  a  while — to  use  my  body 
and  give  my  brain  a  rest.  Well,  I  played 
farmer,  let  my  mind  vegetate  with  a  vengeance 
all  that  winter,  and  forgot  that  there  was  such 
a  thing  as  paper  or  pens  in  the  world.  I  did  n't 


210  As  Having  Nothing 

even  write  a  letter :  there  was  nobody  whose 
happiness  depended  on  me,  fortunately.  But 
I  can  tell  you  I  was  glad  to  see  Bertram  when 
he  rode  quietly  into  the  ranch  one  night. 
It  seems  he  was  passing  through  Cincinnati 
on  his  way  home  after  a  winter  on  the  Pacific 
coast,  and  an  incidental  trip  to  Honolulu.  He 
looked  me  up  at  the  office,  got  my  address, 
and  came  down  to  New  Mexico  to  make  a  call, 
and  see  how  I  was  getting  on.  It  was  good  to 
see  him,  and  I  made  no  bones  about  it,  and — 
well,  the  result  was  that  he  stayed  all  summer, 
and  we  roughed  it  together,  and  grew  better 
friends  than  ever.  He  took  to  the  open-air 
drudgery  like  a  native  cowboy.  I  had  sus- 
pected his  cleverly  hidden  practical  side  in  col- 
lege, and  he  confessed  and  proved  it  to  me 
that  summer.  In  fact,  it  was  all  I  could 
do  to  prevent  him  from  buying  a  ranch  and 
settling  out  there.  For  a  man  of  his  tastes 
and  responsibilities  that  would  never  have  done, 
and  I  talked  him  out  of  it,  although  I  have 
wondered  several  times  since  whether  I  did 


Belligerency  211 

wrong,  and  gave  the  real  Bertram  too  strong 
a  set-back.  However,  here  's  the  story  I 
started  to  tell. 

"  There  was  a  chap  on  the  next  ranch  to  us, 
a  Mexican,  and  a  rough,  brutal  sort  of  a  fel- 
low, who  had  a  bad  name  all  over  the  coun- 
try, with  several  ugly  stories  to  his  discredit. 
For  some  reason  or  other,  Bertram,  who  dis- 
liked him  as  everyone  did,  antagonized  him 
at  once.  They  had  several  wordy  bouts,  in 
which  Bertram  invariably  came  out  ahead, 
and  finally  the  chap  actually  accused  Linton 
of  double  dealing  in  a  round-up,  and  they  had 
a  stiff  quarrel  and  nearly  came  to  pistols. 
More  than  one  in  the  neighborhood  nursed  a 
silent,  smouldering  hatred  and  suspicion  against 
LaLoup,  which  the  least  tangible  proof  of  his 
crookedness  would  kindle  into  a  flame.  One 
afternoon,  Bertram  started  to  ride  twenty  miles 
to  the  post-office,  and  as  he  rode  away  LaLoup 
(who  was  slightly  unsteady,  and  had  been  brag- 
ging and  threatening  about  Bert  among  a  knot 
of  cowboys),  rode  after  him,  and  we  saw  them 


212  As  Having  Nothing 

join  forces  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  across  the 
plain.  I  hated  to  see  them  go  off  together, 
but  I  called  myself  a  fool  for  worrying,  as  I 
knew  LaLoup  was  more  of  a  windbag  than  a 
villain,  and  that  he  was  too  cowardly  to  risk 
harming  Linton  openly.  Bertram  told  me 
what  happened,  long  afterwards.  It  was  this 
way.  It  seems  they  rode  on  for  some  time 
together,  LaLoup  growling  and  snarling  like 
an  angry  dog,  and  Bert,  as  you  can  im- 
agine, calm  and  polite  as  could  be,  but  infi- 
nitely irritating.  Suddenly,  about  seven  miles 
from  the  ranch,  the  horse  Bertram  was  riding 
caught  his  hoof  in  a  hole,  twisted  his  ankle, 
stumbled,  and  then,  somehow,  all  in  a  minute, 
his  rifle  went  off  and  sent  a  bullet  whizzing 
through  his  arm,  up  into  the  shoulder,  tearing 
the  flesh  and  opening  an  artery.  The  blood — 
am  I  making  you  faint,  Miss  Wallace  ?  " 
"No,  indeed,  no  indeed /  go  on  !  " 
"  Bertram  says  he  must  have  swayed  and 
fallen,  sliding  off  the  horse  in  a  sort  of  stupor 
from  the  pain ;  for,  the  next  thing  he  knew, 


Belligerency  213 

LaLoup  was  at  his  side,  begging  him  like  a 
maniac,  for  the  sake  of  all  that  was  holy,  not 
to  die,  because  if  he  did  there  would  not  be  a 
soul  in  the  country-side  who  would  not  believe 
it  was  he,  LaLoup,  who  was  responsible  !  Ber- 
tram said  the  truth  of  it  was  clear  to  him  in  a  sec- 
ond. He  knew,  too,  that  lynch-law  would  take 
the  thing  in  hand,  for  LaLoup  had  all  but  put 
the  rope  about  his  neck  several  times  already. 
The  pain  and  faintness  must  have  been  terrific, 
and  Linton  had  no  doubt  himself  that  it  was 
all  up  with  him  ;  but  he  said  to  me  afterwards, 
that  at  the  time  the  idea  did  n't  frighten  him 
in  the  least — that  everything,  life  itself,  looked 
so  out  of  proportion  and  unreal  and  absurd, 
and  that  LaLoup's  whining  voice  and  pitiful 
antics  of  terror  filled  him  with  nothing  so  much 
as  a  wild  desire  to  laugh.  Instead,  he  directed 
the  man  to  rip  his  shirt  sleeve  and  bind  up  his 
arm  above  the  wound  with  a  rough  tourniquet. 
And  then — weak  and  shaken  and  spent  as  he 
was  from  the  pain  and  loss  of  blood — he  got  on 
his  horse  with  LaLoup's  help,  grit  his  teeth, 


214  As  Having  Nothing 

and  rode  every  step  of  the  way  home  to  the 
ranch. 

"  As  he  staggered  into  the  hallway  where  we 
were  all  sitting,  he  tried  to  smile  with  all  his 
old  nonchalance,  but  it  was  a  ghastly  attempt. 
Although  the  night  was  so  cold  that  there  was 
a  heavy  frost,  I  could  see  great  beads  of  per- 
spiration on  his  forehead,  and  his  eyes  were 
sunk  back  so  that  his  face  looked  like  a  skull. 
'  See  here,  you  fellows,'  he  gasped,  '  the  sor- 
rel stumbled, — my  rifle  shot  me  ! — LaLoup 
helped  me  home — guess  I  'm  done  for,  Calvert, 
old  man,' — and  off  he  went  in  the  deadest  faint 
I  ever  saw.  He  was  out  of  his  head  for  days, 
and  even  though  he  did  n't  die,  LaLoup  would 
have  been  dead  and  buried  by  the  time  he  re- 
covered if  it  had  n't  been  for  that  last  speech 
of  his.  But  I  don't  believe  there's  another 
man  in  the  country  who  could  have  borne 
the  pain  and  strain  of  that  seven-mile  ride. 
It  was  sheer  endurance  and  heroism, — clean 
grit,  as  they  called  it  out  there !  You  see  the 
stuff  he 's  made  of  ?  " 


Belligerency  215 

Elizabeth's  eyes  were  shining,  and  Calvert 
thought,  as  he  looked  at  her,  that  her  expres- 
sion alone  was  enough  to  repay  a  man  for  even 
more  than  the  brave  deed  he  had  been  recount- 
ing. The  story  told,  and  told  so  vividly,  with 
the  quiet  loyalty  and  restrained  enthusiasm  of 
Bertram's  best  friend,  had  made  a  most  power- 
ful impression  upon  the  girl.  She  drew  a 
long  breath  as  she  said,  simply,  "  I  'in  so  glad 
you  told  me.  It  was  one  of  the  finest  things 
I  have  ever  heard  of  a  man's  doing.  It  does 
one  good  to  know  such  spirit  and  bravery  are 
left  in  the  world  ! "  To  herself  she  thought ; 
"  What  a  friend — what  a  friend  this  man  is  ! " 

Alas !  that  we  cannot  live  long  on  the  rare- 
fied heights  !  Alas,  that  the  heights  imply 
unquestionable  valleys  !  Alas,  that  these  two 
who  had  so  glowed  in  common  appreciation  of 
a  fine  deed  that  they  had  each,  in  a  different 
way,  risen  to  better  possibilities  for  themselves 
— should  descend  to  a  commonplace,  personal 
quarrel  at  the  close  of  the  long  ride ! 

As  they  turned  into  Elizabeth's  street,  for 


216  As  Having  Nothing 

the  first  time  the  strangeness  of  Calvert's  op- 
portune appearance  that  afternoon  flashed  into 
her  mind.  To  neither  of  them,  curiously,  had 
come  the  thought  that  she  had  not  questioned 
it  before.  It  had  somehow  seemed  most  nat- 
ural at  the  time ;  while  their  ensuing  absorb- 
ing conversation  had  put  everything  else  out 
of  her  head,  and  the  incident  which  had  re- 
united them  was  completely  forgotten. 

"  What  a  coincidence  it  was,  your  coming  to 
my  rescue  this  afternoon  !  How  did  you  ever 
chance  to  be  there  just  in  the  nick  of  time  ?  I 
thought  you  had  finished  all  your  work." 

Elizabeth  spoke  lightly,  and  with  such  utter 
inconsequence  that  Dodge,  in  the  reaction  that 
is  so  apt  to  follow  magnanimity,  had  a  sudden, 
savage  impulse  to  open  her  eyes  to  the  incon- 
venience her  wilfulness  had  caused. 

"  It  is  finished,"  he  said,  stiffly  ;  "  I  went 
simply  and  solely  to  see  that  you  did  n't  get 
into  trouble  down  there  by  yourself." 

Elizabeth  stopped  short.  "  You  went  there 
on  my  account  ? "  she  demanded,  slowly,  a 


Belligerency  217 

deep  flush  of  anger  mounting  to  her  cheeks. 
Oh,  it  was  too  humiliating  to  be  treated  like  a 
naughty  child !  "  And  how  did  you  know  I 
was  going  to-day,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

Calvert's  temper  rose  at  hers.  She  might 
just  as  well  know  the  whole  truth  now,  he 
blustered  inwardly,  and  learn  how  ridiculous 
her  independence  was.  "  I  did  not  know.  I 
have  gone  down  every  afternoon  to  Rivington 
Street.  Do  you  suppose  any  man  of  any  dis- 
cretion whatever  would  allow  you  to  make 
such  a  foolhardy  trip  alone  ? "  he  said,  dog- 
gedly. 

"  You  have  gone  down  every  afternoon  to 
Rivington  Street  ?  "  Elizabeth  repeated,  in  an 
astounded  voice.  "  Why,"  she  laughed  an 
irate,  sarcastic  little  laugh,  "you  are  indeed 
unnecessarily  punctilious  about  my  conduct. 
And  pray,  is  it  possible  that  you  have  had 
nothing  better  to  do  than  walk  up  and  down 
Rivington  Street,  lying  in  wait  for  me  ?  Or 
perhaps  you  are  gathering  material  for  a  de- 
tective story  ?  It  would  be  a  new  departure, 


218  As  Having  Nothing 

but  after  this  I  should  fancy  you  might  be 
competent  to  write  one." 

"  I  did  not  walk  up  and  down  Rivington 
Street,"  flashed  Calvert,  his  anger  now  thor- 
oughly kindled ;  "  I  went  to  the  Rivington 
Street  Station  at  two  o'clock  and  stayed  until 
three.  I  knew  you  would  be  going  between 
those  hours  if  at  all ;  and  this  afternoon,  when 
I  saw  you,  I  simply  kept  you  in  sight.  That 
is  all.  If  nothing  had  happened,  you  would 
never  have  known  anything  about  it.  If  you 
choose  to  be  angry,  now  that  I  Ve  told  you, 
it  is  no  further  concern  of  mine.  I  did  what 
seemed  to  me  to  be  my  plain  duty.  I  think 
you  must  admit  that,  as  things  turned  out,  it 
was  well  I  did  '  shadow  you.' " 

Elizabeth  shut  her  teeth  hard.  She  was  in 
a  tumult  of  wrath,  such  as  she  had  never  been 
conscious  of  before.  It  was  all  too  utterly  un- 
bearable !  While  the  fact  that,  as  he  said, 
there  had  turned  out  to  be  reason  for  his  pres- 
ence, added  the  last  drop  of  bitterness. 

"  It  was  nothing  but  chance  ! "  she  flashed 


Belligerency  219 

back  excitedly.  "  And  it  is  an  ungentlemanly 
thing  for  you  to  have  presumed  as  you  have 
done  !  What  if  I  am  independent,  even  to  the 
verge  of  danger  ?  What  if  I  do  outrage  every 
tenet  of  your  narrow,  conventional  creed  of 
what  a  woman  should  be  and  do  ?  I,  I  alone, 
am  responsible.  I  have  my  own  life  to  live, 
and  I  ask  nothing  but  to  be  allowed  to  live  it 
as  I  must, — the  right  that  belongs  to  every 
working-woman  as  well  as  to  every  working- 
man.  Who  are  you,  that  you  should  dispute 
my  right,  and  force  me  into  the  false  position 
of  a  sheltered  woman  who  has  nothing  to  do 
but  claim  privileges  ?  You  are  cruel — and  all 
because  you  would  achieve  your  man's  point, 
and  prove  me  unwomanly  and  outrd 7  " 

Her  voice  broke  at  the  last,  and  she  stopped 
and  turned  from  him,  breathing  quickly ;  her 
heart  hot  with  the  cruel  shame  which  is  the  result 
of  friction  between  impulsive  wrath  and  dignity. 
Something  behind  the  swift  rush  of  words  and 
reproaches  had  touched  the  very  core  of  the 
man's  sympathies,  and  abased  his  soul  to  the 


220  As  Having  Nothing 

dust.  His  gray  eyes  grew  dark  with  feeling, 
as  he  said,  in  a  deep,  constrained  voice,  "  Miss 
Wallace,  you  wrong  yourself  and  me  too.  I 
did  this  thing  because  of  no  cruel  wish  to  hum- 
ble your  independence,  or  prove  my  own  point. 
It  is  because  I  have  come  to  perceive  so  clearly 
the  real  self  which  you  hide  so  bravely,  that  I 
have  acted  in  this  way.  Presumptuous  as  it 
seems  to  you,  and  misguided  as  it  may  have 
been,  believe  me,  it  came  from  an  infinite  com- 
prehension of  your  true  needs,  and  an  infinite 
veneration  for  the  noble  courage  of  your  daily 
life." 

As  she  listened,  and  heard  the  sincerity  which 
rang  through  the  rather  stilted  words,  the  girl 
was  conscious  of  a  curious  sensation,  as  of  the 
insidious  undermining  of  all  the  bulwarks  which 
pride  had  built  high  about  her,  and  which  she 
had  sustained  at  the  cost  of  purely  nervous 
energy.  It  was  as  if  it  had  all  been  made  of 
quicksand,  which  was  slipping,  slipping ;  while 
she  allowed  it,  and  stood  by  as  if  in  a  trance, 
watching  the  demolition  of  all  her  labor,  and 


Belligerency 


221 


was  even  conscious  of  a  certain  relief  and 
sweetness  at  the  thought  that  someone  was 
entering  her  lonely  citadel.  She  roused  her- 
self with  a  mental  shock.  Who  was  it  that 
was  striving  to  enter?  The  one  who,  of  all 
in  the  world,  must  be  kept  at  arm's  length. 
Nothing,  nothing  but  misunderstanding  was 
possible  between  them.  He  whose  whole 
character  and  mind  demanded  by  natural  se- 
lection a  different  type  of  woman,  had  had  the 
audacity  to  dissect  her  scientifically — this  wri- 
ter of  books,  this  creator  of  types !  To  the 
rescue  of  the  falling  bulwarks  ! 

"  You  are  all  wrong,"  she  said  icily.  "  My  life 
is  perfectly  congenial.  I  am  fitted  for  it  in  every 
way.  I  need  and  ask  no  sympathy."  She  even 
summoned  a  smile,  conventional  and  coldly  po- 
lite, to  her  lips.  "  You  must  pardon  me  if  I  was 
hasty,  and  forgot  the  service  you  rendered  me 
this  afternoon.  Remember  I  am  not  a  fit  subject 
for  knight-errantry,  and  so  do  not  quite  know 
how  to  accept  it  graciously.  Here  we  are  at  the 
apartment,  Thank  you,  and  good-night," 


222  As  Having  Nothing 

Calvert  took  her  hand  and  held  it  closely 
for  a  second.  "You  would  be  incomprehen- 
sible to  most  men,"  he  said  shortly  ;  adding  to 
himself  as  he  turned  away,  "  I  would  to  Heaven 
you  were  still  so  to  me  ! " 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  DESERTION 

"  Oh,  world  as  God  has  made  it !  all  is  beauty ; 
And  knowing  this,  is  love,  and  love  is  duty." 

SLEEP  was  one  of  her  rights,  as  a  work- 
ing-woman, which  Elizabeth  insisted  upon 
with  the  most  consistent  severity ;  and  she 
was  in  the  habit  of  obtaining  it,  by  fair  means 
or  foul,  after  a  highly  original,  if  spurious, 
method  of  her  own.  When  anything  about 
her  life  or  work  troubled  her,  and  she  foresaw 
a  night  of  sleepless  worry  ahead,  she  would 
reason  thus  with  the  self  that  melancholy  had 
apparently  marked  for  its  own — "  If  you  '11 
only  leave  me  alone  to-night,  I  '11  promise  to 
worry  two  hours  in  the  morning!"  If  it  was 

an  unusually  obstinate  case — "  Yes,  I  '11  even 

223 


224  As  Having  Nothing 

promise  to  worry  three  hours,  if  you  '11  only 
let  me  go  to  sleep  now." 

Hitherto,  the  plan  had  always  proved  suc- 
cessful. Her  credulous  other  self  had  retired 
gracefully  from  the  field,  and  hypocritical 
Elizabeth  had  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just,  well 
aware  that  when  morning  came,  with  its  prac- 
tical daylight  and  its  full  measure  of  work 
pressed  down  and  running  over,  the  little 
bargain  of  the  night  before  would  never  so 
much  as  be  referred  to  again. 

What  was  her  chagrin,  therefore,  to  find, 
on  the  night  following  the  escapade  just  chron- 
icled, that  this  time-honored  subterfuge  was 
useless.  Despite  all  she  could  do,  sleep  lurked 
ever  coyly  just  out  of  reach,  till  far  into  the 
morning  ;  and  during  the  long  hours,  the  dread 
tyrant  of  wakefulness  chained  her  mind  to 
her  restless  body,  and  compelled  her  to  look 
helplessly  on,  while  a  procession  of  distorted, 
introspective  thoughts — endless  as  a  stage 
procession,  which  repeats  itself  in  a  monot- 
onous, unbroken  chain — paced  relentlessly 


A  Desertion  225 

through  her  brain.  And  this,  whether  her 
eyes  were  sealed  behind  stubborn  lids,  or 
sought  an  impossible  focus  in  the  outer  black- 
ness. Her  naturally  healthful,  sensible  self 
rebelled  fiercely  against  this  unbidden  inva- 
sion of  her  consciousness  ;  and  by  the  time  her 
open  window  showed,  at  last,  a  gray  square 
against  the  wall,  and  objects  began  to  emerge 
out  of  the  shadows  and  reconstruct  an  individ- 
uality for  the  daylight,  she  was  utterly  dis- 
gusted with  herself ;  and  then  and  there  she 
made  a  new  bargain  with  her  tormentor. 

"I  admit  I'm  morbid,"  she  said,  "yes,  and 
nervous — two  traits  I  utterly  despise.  But 
it 's  only  because  I  have  been  doing  altogether 
too  much  work  lately,  and  because  I  was  goose 
enough  to  be  frightened  and  upset  this  after- 
noon. If  you'll  only  let  me  go  to  sleep,  I'll 
pack  up  to-morrow,  join  Mother  at  Good 
Ground,  and  not  paint  a  stroke  for  three 
weeks !  And  what 's  more,  I  really  mean  it, 
this  time  !  There,  will  that  satisfy  you  ?" 

It  did.       Her  sincerity  was  unmistakable  ; 

'5 


226  As  Having  Nothing 

and  in  a  few  minutes  Elizabeth  drifted  away 
on  a  deliciously  dreamless  tide,  to  awake,  sev- 
eral hours  later,  refreshed  and  contemptuous 
of  the  night's  long  misery,  which,  in  the  light 
of  a  new  day,  shrivelled  to  something  quite 
too  trivial  and  unimportant  even  to  remember, 
of  use  only  in  that  it  had  bound  her,  in  honor, 
to  begin  her  vacation  without  delay.  Eliza- 
beth invariably  had  a  reaction  when  she  had 
finished  a  season  of  concentrated  work,  and 
this  morning  she  felt  like  a  new  creature,  full 
of  holiday  joy  and  freedom,  as  she  flew  about, 
preparing  for  departure.  By  twelve  o'clock 
she  had  packed  and  expressed  her  trunk  and 
turned  her  key  in  the  tiny  apartment. 

There  remained  only  one  last  task,  the  des- 
patching of  her  illustrations  for  the  East  Side 
article.  These  were  all  at  the  studio,  with  the 
exception  of  her  yesterday's  sketch.  With 
that  tucked  under  her  arm,  she  hurried  down 
to  the  Velasquez,  collected  them  all  and  ad- 
dressed the  package  to  Calvert  Dodge. 

The    studio    looked   close   and    dusty   and 


A  Desertion  227 

unattractive  to  the  girl's  mind,  already  revel- 
ling in  the  fresh  and  limitless  open,  whither 
she  was  bound.  It  seemed  incredible  to  her 
that  she  could  have  borne  the  heat  and  cramped 
confinement  so  long  without  rebelling.  It  is 
odd  how  content  we  can  most  of  us  manage 
to  be  with  our  surroundings  when  they  are 
inevitable  ;  and  how  it  is  only  when  pressure 
is  anticipated  that  we  dread  it,  and  only  when 
it  is  lightened  that  we  realize  the  full  weight 
of  the  burden  we  have  been  bearing. 

Elizabeth  possessed  this  happy  faculty  of 
contentment,  of  discovering  the  vital  interest 
in  whatever  life  she  might  be  obliged  to  lead, 
to  rather  an  unusual  degree.  She  recalled 
now,  with  an  amused  little  smile,  her  late  atti- 
tude of  placid,  conscious  self-satisfaction,  when, 
upon  one  of  their  trips  down-town,  she  and 
Calvert  Dodge  had  touched,  at  a  tangent,  a 
bored  party  of  Philadelphians,  some  of  whom 
Elizabeth  knew.  They  were  bound  for  James- 
town on  their  way  from  Atlantic  City,  and  re- 
garded New  York,  at  that  season,  pantingly,  as 


228  As  Having  Nothing 

a  strip  of  desert, — hot,  dirty,  empty,  and  odor- 
ous, to  be  traversed  with  bated  breath  and  as 
swiftly  as  possible.  Upon  learning  that  Eliza- 
beth, unlike  themselves,  was  not  in  New  York 
on  sufferance,  simply  because  it  was  an  un- 
sightly means  to  a  much-desired  end,  their  meed 
of  incredulous  surprise  and  ill-conceived  sym- 
pathy had  left  her  with  not  one  grain  of  envy. 
She  had  felt  rather  a  full  measure  of  amused 
toleration  for  people  who  not  only  ignored 
the  vast  numbers  of  imprisoned  poor,  but  were 
entirely  ignorant  of  the  earnest  life  of  thought 
which  never  stops  in  a  great  city,  but  pulses 
on  unceasingly,  by  summer  as  by  winter,  quite 
as  unheeding,  in  its  turn,  of  the  ebb  and  flow 
of  a  social  tide. 

But  this  morning  it  was  different.  This 
morning  Elizabeth  was  conscious  of  an  intense 
pity  for  everyone  in  the  world  who  was  not 
going  to  Good  Ground,  and  found  herself 
in  a  mood  of  childishly  egotistical  delight 
over  her  own  special  and  insignificant  little 
journey. 


A  Desertion  229 

As  she  tied  up  her  collected  sketches  and 
cut  the  string,  she  felt  that  she  severed  the  last 
cord  which  held  her  to  the  city  and  work  of  any 
sort,  for  she  had  fully  determined  to  keep  to 
the  spirit  as  well  as  the  letter  of  her  bond  of 
the  night  before.  Yet,  as  she  stood  on  the 
studio  threshold  for  one  last  look  at  the  room 
which  had  grown  familiar  and  endeared  to  her, 
as  is  invariably  the  case  with  the  place  where 
we  feel  at  liberty  to  stable  and  exercise  our 
special  hobbies,  her  eyes  caught  sight  of  a  cer- 
tain compact  little  sketching  outfit.  With  a 
feeling  of  half-guilty  treason  she  seized  it  and 
slipped  it,  almost  covertly,  into  her  bag,  assur- 
ing herself  in  extenuation  that  she  did  not 
intend  to  use  it,  but  took  it  merely  as  a  safe- 
guard against  painting  attacks,  which  are  apt 
to  inflict  one  if  unprovided  for — like  the  tooth- 
ache or  a  thunder-storm,  when  far  from  an 
apothecary  or  an  umbrella. 

At  the  door  she  met  Bertram  Linton  just 
coming  in,  who,  at  sight  of  her,  exclaimed  de- 
lightedly : — "  Oh,  here  you  are  !  I  was  afraid 


230  As  Having  Nothing 

you  would  be  out  at  lunch.  I  have  a  commis- 
sion for  you,  Miss  Wallace." 

"  Not  if  I  know  it  !"  said  Elizabeth,  gaily; 
"  '  I  'm  off  by  the  morning  train '  to  Long  Isl- 
and. You  Ve  made  a  mistake ;  I  don't  know 
how  to  illustrate  any  more.  I  'm  only  an  ordi- 
nary individual,  with  not  a  talent  to  bless  my- 
self with.  I  've  just  left  my  last  package  for 
the  expressman,  washed  my  hands  of  paint 
and  charcoal,  and  shaken  off  the  dust  of  the 
studio  for  the  next  three  weeks." 

Bertram's  face  fell.  "Oh,  but  Miss  Wal- 
lace," he  said  ;  "  come  now,  you  are  just  the 
artist  we  need.  It  's  a  steamer  story  which 
is  to  appear  in  September  Scrivener  s,  and  I 
thought  of  those  jolly  ocean  sketch-books  that 
you  kept  coming  over,  and  have  been  patting 
myself  on  the  back  ever  since  ! " 

"  Can't  help  it,  Mr.  Linton.  I  Ve  made  a 
sacred  promise  not  to  undertake  another  thing 
until  I  Ve  had  a  vacation." 

"  Whom  have  you  promised  ?"  curiously. 

"  Myself." 


A  Desertion  231 

"  Oh,  it 's  easy  enough  to  break  that,  then  ! 
Do  break  it  and  help  me  out." 

Elizabeth  shook  her  head  firmly.  "  Can't, 
indeed  ! "  she  repeated,  laughing. 

"  Don't  you  ever  break  promises  to  yourself, 
Miss  Wallace?" 

44  That 's  just  the  trouble.  I  have  done  it 
once  too  often,  and  myself  has  finally  discov- 
ered the  imposture,  and  refused  to  be  bam- 
boozled any  longer  !  I  must  keep  this  in  order 
to  get  back  in  favor  with  myself,  or  I  '11  never 
be  able  to  break  them  again  ! " 

Linton  had  turned  and  walked  with  her  to 
the  corner  of  Broadway,  where  they  stood 
waiting  for  her  cable.  "  I  see,"  he  laughed  ; 
44  then  I  won't  tease  you  any  more,  for  I  know 
that  it  is  a  desperate  thing  to  have  one's  better 
self  lose  faith  in  one." 

44  But  it  is  n't  that  at  all :  it 's  my  worse  self 
that  has  lost  faith  in  me,  and  it 's  only  that 
honesty  is  the  best  policy,  for  my  worse  self  is 
bad  enough  to  be  revengeful,  you  see.  From 
what  I  hear  you  must  be  on  good  terms  with 


232  As  Having  Nothing 

your  best  self  just  now,  Mr.  Linton.  Your 
work  is  very  congenial,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

Bertram  looked  serious.  "  I  have  signed 
with  a  hard  taskmaster,  but  every  day  I  grow 
more  ashamed  of  not  having  done  it  sooner ! " 
He  struck  the  pavement  a  ringing  blow  with 
his  cane,  and  Elizabeth  allowed  a  car  to  pass 
her  as  she  said,  earnestly  : 

"Never  regret !  That  is  Joan  Whetmore's 
dictum,  and  I  think  it's  the  best  one  in  the 
world  for  anyone  with  a  conscience." 

"  I  won't,  then,"  Linton  replied,  with  a 
pleased  smile  and  a  sudden  squaring  of  his 
broad  shoulders.  "  Thank  you,  for  reminding 
me.  Whereabouts  on  Long  Island  are  you  to 
be,  Miss  Wallace  ?  " 

44  Near  Good  Ground — do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  No ;  is  there  good  sailing  ?  " 

44 1  should  say  so  !  That  is,  in  catboats. 
It 's  not  fashionable  enough  for  yachting  or 
even  naphtha-launching ! " 

44  Yachting  ! "  sniffed  Linton,  contemptu- 
ously ;  "  there  's  not  half  the  joy  in  yachting, 


A  Desertion  233 

or  slooping,  or  launching  that  there  is  in  a 
catboat.  For  pure  joy,  I  say,  give  me  a  com- 
mon garden  catboat ! " 

"  So  I  think,"  agreed  Elizabeth,  laughing  ; 
"  you  'd  better  come  and  try  one  !  " 

"  I  will  later,  if  I  may.  I  suppose  there  are 
hostelries  of  some  sort,  if  I  should  '  fall  upon 
Good  Ground '  for  over  Sunday  ?  I  sha'n't  be 
able  to  spare  any  other  time." 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed  !"  said  Elizabeth,  smiling 
with  inward  applause  at  the  business  man  into 
which  blast  Bertram  had  developed,  "  plenty, 
if  you  don't  mind  the  other  boarders,  who  are 
deadly.  We  are  to  be  at  a  cottage — Mrs. 
Flett's.  Good-bye.  I  hope  you  will  come  ! " 
she  called  cordially  over  her  shoulder,  as 
another  cable-car  stopped  at  the  corner,  and 
she  stepped  aboard. 

Her  spirits  rose  every  mile  of  the  way  to 
Good  Ground.  The  fresh,  cool  air  from  across 
the  salt  marshes  blew  in  at  the  open  car 
window  ;  and  the  town-worn  girl  drew  in  long 
breaths  of  its  briny  deliciousness,  in  the  keen 


234  As  Having  Nothing 

enjoyment  of  lungs  starved  with  the  hot  breath 
of  city  streets;  while  she  conjured  up  visions  of  a 
catboat,  flying  before  the  wind  on  Great  South 
Bay,  that  almost  maddened  her  with  impatience. 
She  reached  her  destination  about  four 
o'clock ;  and  establishing  herself  in  an  an- 
tiquated hack,  was  driven  the  three  miles  to 
"  Flett's,"  by  an  open-mouthed,  large-eared, 
tow-headed,  taciturn  youth,  who  sat  sideways 
on  the  front  seat,  and  stared  at  his  passenger 
in  undisguised  curiosity ;  while  the  neglected 
horse  zigzagged  along  the  road  at  his  own 
sweet  will — a  proceeding  which  greatly  en- 
hanced the  excitement,  as  it  caused  the  old 
vehicle  to  lurch  over  the  sandy  ruts  at  an 
alarming  rate.  Elizabeth  fully  expected  to  be 
deposited  by  the  wayside  at  any  minute,  but 
the  sensation  was  an  enjoyable  one,  and  she 
balanced  gaily  on  the  unsteady  seat,  and  car- 
ried on  her  animated,  one-sided  conversation 
so  amicably  with  the  youthful  Jehu,  that  by 
the  end  of  the  ride  she  had  won  his  heart 
completely. 


A  Desertion  235 

"If  yer  wants  ter  drive  about  any,  Dobbin  's 
allers  ready,"  he  said,  grinning  bashfully,  and 
giving  vent  to  the  first  connected  remark  he 
had  yet  made,  as  they  came  in  sight  of  Captain 
Flett's  cottage,  the  shingled  surface  of  which 
glistened  like  silver  in  the  sun,  against  its 
background  of  sapphire  bay.  "  And  they 
won't  charge  yer  much,  nuther,"  he  added, 
generously ;  "  Dobbin  's  too  old  and  blind 
ter  farm,  and  right  handy  fer  pleasure 
drivin'." 

"Thank  you.  I'll  send  for  you,  then,  some 
day.  Will  you  come  and  drive  me  ?" 

"  Naw  !  "  came  the  uncompromising  refusal. 
Which,  however,  fortunately  for  Elizabeth's 
self-esteem,  he  condescended  to  explain  further. 
"  I  can't  take  yer,  cos  I  won't  be  here.  I  'm 
goin'  daown  Saouth,  a  piece,"  he  drawled, 
importantly. 

"Indeed?"  asked  his  agreeable  fare,  think- 
ing of  Florida, — "  down  South  at  this  time  of 
year !  How  far?" 

"  Baout  fourteen  mile." 


236  As  Having  Nothing 

Mrs.  Wallace  was  as  delighted  as  heart 
could  wish,  over  the  beautiful  surprise  of 
Elizabeth's  unexpected  coming ;  while  Mar- 
tha wept  tears  of  pure  joy  over  her  dear  Miss 
Betty,  who  had  grown  "  such  a  beautiful  young 
lady  as  never  was  ! "  Captain  Flett  stood  by, 
watching  the  hubbub  with  kindly,  twinkling 
eyes,  and  on  being  presented  took  Elizabeth's 
outstretched  hand  in  a  large  and  hairy  grasp, 
saying  with  unmistakable  cordiality  in  his  big, 
honest  voice,  "  I  be  blame  glad  to  see  ye  miss, 

me  if  I  ben't !"  The  unusual  emphasis  of 

his  welcome  rather  startled  Elizabeth,  but  as 
nobody  seemed  to  notice  anything  amiss,  it 
was  with  her  own  inimitable  grace  of  manner 
that  she  controlled  her  inclination  to  smile,  and 
thanked  him  very  prettily. 

Left  alone  with  Elizabeth,  Mrs.  Wallace 
could  not  say  enough  in  praise  of  the  immacu- 
late cottage,  her  accommodations,  and  Martha's 
care  and  cooking.  "  You  must  not  mind  Cap- 
tain Flett,"  she  whispered,  while  Elizabeth  was 
washing  her  dusty  face  and  hands,  and  re- 


A  Desertion  237 

coiling  her  heavy  masses  of  wind-blown  hair  in 
the  dainty  little  pocket  of  a  room,  every  inch 
of  which  shone  a  polished  smile  of  welcome. 
"  He  hardly  ever  says  anything,  but  when  he 
does,  he  uses  the  most  extraordinary  language, 
my  dear.  At  first,  I  was  so  shocked,  and  tried 
to  talk  to  Martha  on  the  subject ;  but  Martha 
assures  me  he  means  nothing  at  all.  It 's 
just  a  habit  he  learned  at  sea,  when  a  boy,  and 
one  she  can't  rid  him  of,  though  she  has  tried 
every  sort  of  a  way, — begging,  and  scolding, 
and  praying  with  him.  He  just  says  it  's  no 
use ;  she  might  as  well  try  to  '  onlearn  him  to 
breathe  ! '  And  Martha  says  she  believes  him, 
and  has  just  given  up  trying,  and  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  his  goodness  will  make  up  to  the 
Lord  for  those  awful  words  which  he  does  not 
mean  at  all.  And  I  really  believe  it  will, 
Elizabeth,  for  he  has  the  kindest  heart  in  the 
world,  and  has  been  such  a  loving  husband  to 
Martha.  So  I  try  not  to  notice  it  any  more." 
It  was  late  to  sail  that  day,  and  Elizabeth 
was  only  too  glad  to  sit  down,  before  long, 


238  As  Having  Nothing 

to  a  delicious  homey  supper,  served  on  the 
little  porch,  from  which  they  could  look  out 
across  the  bay,  dotted  with  home-coming  sails. 
Martha  waited  upon  them,  her  dear,  old,  round 
face  wreathed  in  smiles,  and  stopped  at  every 
trip  to  the  kitchen  to  say  to  her  spouse  who 
sat  smoking  his  pipe  by  the  open  door,  "Airit 
she  beautiful,  Thomas  ? "  At  which  query, 
Thomas  invariably  shut  his  eyes,  removed  his 
pipe,  waved  it  slowly  in  the  air  as  if  officiating 
with  incense,  and  invoked  all  the  powers  of 
darkness  to  witness  that  it  was  but  truth  that 
Martha  spoke. 

After  supper,  mother  and  daughter  sat  out 
in  the  little,  old-fashioned  garden,  while  one  by 
one  the  stars  were  lighted  in  the  soft  sky,  and 
the  waters  of  the  bay  subsided,  whispering, 
into  an  evening  peace. 

Elizabeth  talked  about  Joan.  "Isn't  she 
precious,  Mother  ?  So  true,  and  loyal,  and  re- 
liable !  Do  you  think  I  can  ever  be  grateful 
enough  for  her  friendship  ?  What  a  friend 
she  has  been  to  me  !  Do  you  realize,  Mother, 


A  Desertion  239 

that  I  owe  everything  to  Joan?  If  it  had  n't 
been  for  her,  I  should  have  been  advertising 
soap  this  minute.  We  owe  her  everything," 
she  reiterated,  earnestly  ;  "  the  new  work,  the 
better  pay,  the  possibility  of  this  vacation — 
even  the  color  in  your  blessed,  pale  cheeks, 
this  blissful  night,  and  the  fine  old  ocean, 
booming  over  there  beyond  the  bay  ! " 

"  Yes,  and  our  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Linton, 
and  our  friendship  with  Mr.  Dodge.  I  take 
such  an  interest  in  that  young  man,  Betty. 
I  'm  really  fond  of  him.  I  hardly  think  you 
appreciate  how  clever  he  is,  love.  He  ought 
to  be  rich,  a  man  like  that.  He  has  so  many 
theories  and  plans  that  he  can  never  afford  to 
carry  out  while  he  has  to  work  early  and  late 
as  he  does  now.  Do  you  know,  it  has  just 
occurred  to  me,  how  nice  it  would  be  if  Joan 
were  to  fancy  him,  would  it  not  ?  " 

"  Very,"  said  Elizabeth,  pulling  her  cape 
more  closely  about  her — the  night  air  was 
chill — "  And  what  a  dear  little  wife  she  would 
make,"  she  went  on  hurriedly;  "so  dainty 


240  As  Having  Nothing 

and  lovable,  and  altogether  sweet  and  adorable 
in  every  way  !  She  would  appreciate  him  too, 
would  n't  she  ?  Would  enter  into  his  life  fully, 
I  mean  ?" 

"  Why,  yes,  Betty,  surely !  But  a  man 
does  n't  want  his  wife  to  be  too  intrusive.  I 
always  felt  that  with  your  father,  and  judged 
it  best  to  leave  him  alone  when  he  was  very 
much  in  earnest.  It  would  have  troubled  him 
to  have  had  to  stop  and  explain  things  to  me. 
He  was  such  a  brilliant  man,  Elizabeth  !  " 

The  memory  of  an  afternoon  in  Naples 
came  vividly  to  Elizabeth's  mind, — an  after- 
noon when  her  father  had  spent  three  patient 
hours  explaining  with  the  most  painstaking 
and  loving  care  the  details  of  some  theory 
of  international  economics  in  which  he  was 
deeply  absorbed,  and  which  she  herself  had 
begged  to  understand  better.  His  face,  too, 
when  she  had  finally  grasped  his  point,  and  his 
delight  in  her  comprehensive  questions  and 
appreciative  interest  later. 

She  reached  out  her  hand  and  smoothed  her 


A  Desertion  241 

mother's  hair  tenderly.  Poor,  poor  Mother, 
what  she  had  missed  !  It  seemed  so  ineffa- 
bly sad. 

"  Oh,  who  shall  render  unto  us  to  make  us  glad, 
The  things  which  for  and  of  each   other's  sake  we 
might  have  had  !  " 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  later,  "  I  would  n't 
mind  the  work,  I  would  n't  mind  the  worry,  I 
would  n't  mind  the  life,  if  only  people  would  n't 
always  say  it  was  'so  developing.' — 'Bitter, 
but  healthful,'  like  a  horrid  tonic  !  I  never 
used  to  mind  taking  medicine,  do  you  know, 
except  when  you  said  it  was  '  so  good  for  me  ! ' 
It  must  be  because  it  took  away  from  the 
heroism  in  swallowing  it  I  had  been  so  proud 
of!" 

And  again  :  "It  is  developing ;  that  's  the 
worst  of  it.  And  so — there's  no  pleasure  in 
grumbling,  and  no  sense  in  being  a  martyr, 
after  all,  any  more  than  there  was  with  the 
medicine.  How  selfish  I  am,  sweetheart!" 

A  little  later  :  "  Love  me,  dear  !  Pretend 
I  'm  a  little  girl  again,  and  don't  know  any- 


242  As  Having  Nothing 

thing  about  painting,  except  to  color  the  illus- 
trations in  the  back  numbers  of  magazines, 
on  rainy  days  up  in  the  old  attic.  Pretend  we 
are  rich  again,  and  don't  have  to  take  develop- 
ing medicine,  and — are  all  here  together  !  " 

Mrs.  Wallace  tipped  the  wistful  face  up, 
and  pushed  back  the  shadowy  hair  from  the 
shadowy  eyes,  with  a  soft,  slender  hand. 
"  You  are  happy,  love  ?  "  she  asked,  a  note  of 
puzzled  anxiety  in  her  voice. 

The  girl  nestled  her  head  back  on  her 
mother's  knee,  with  a  little  laugh.  "  Perfectly 
happy,  Madre  Mia,"  she  said  brightly ;  and 
Mrs.  Wallace,  serenely  content  again,  rocked 
lazily  in  the  low  hammock  which  Captain  Flett 
had  swung  for  her  between  two  wind-stunted 
pines.  The  pendulum  of  her  gentle  thoughts 
swung  as  evenly  back  and  forth — Elizabeth 
here,  Elizabeth  resting ;  the  pleasant  place, 
the  peaceful  night ! 

Two  katydids,  hidden  in  the  salt  grass, 
disputed  in  an  amicably  monotonous  way. 
Their  intermittent  voices  but  emphasized  the 


A  Desertion  243 

stillness.  Elizabeth,  gratefully  conscious  of 
the  subduing  calm,  lapsed  into  a  thoughtless, 
quiescent  reverie,  letting  her  mind  vegetate  in 
a  delicious  languor.  So  they  remained  till 
bedtime. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A   TRUCE 

"  Yet  I  will  but  say  what  mere  friends  say 

Or  only  a  thought  stronger  ; 
I  will  hold  your  hand  but  so  long  as  all  may, 
Or  so  very  little  longer  !  " 

IT  was  very  hot  in  the  city.  Calvert's  mind 
played  truant  from  his  work,  and  flew  out 
of  the  high  office  window  which  overlooked 
the  bay.  He  followed  it  with  his  eyes  as  far 
as  the  dim  line  which  meant  Long  Island ; 
but  it  flew  still  farther,  quite  out  of  sight,  to  a 
sandy  strip  of  shore,  where  two  little  city 
children  raced  laughing  with  the  wonderful 
waves,  and  a  tall,  dark-haired  girl  sat  and 
smiled  upon  them. 

One  of  the  City  editors,  who  had  just  come 
back  after  his  vacation,  glanced  at  him  as  he 

244 


A  Truce  245 

passed  in  with  some  copy,  and  stopped  to 
say  humanely :  "I  say,  Dodge,  you  ought  to 
knock  off  for  a  week  or  so.  You  deserve  to 
be  tanned  for  slaving  as  you  do  !  You  're  as 
pale  and  big-eyed  now  as  possible  ;  and  you 
can't  afford  to  be  ill,  you  know." 

Dodge  looked  up  smiling,  while  a  sudden, 
daring  plan  sprang  full-fledged  into  his  brain. 
"  Thank  you,  Morris,  I  don't  feel  very  fit.  I 
believe  I  '11  take  your  advice.  I  'm  thinking  of 
running  down  to  Long  Island  for  a  few  days ; 
and  as  you  say,  no  time  like  the  present." 

"  Glad  of  it ;  bon  voyage  !  "  And  the  City 
editor  passed  on,  whistling  unconsciously  as 
he  did  so,  "  The  Girl  I  Left  behind  Me." 

Calvert  drew  out  from  his  pocket  a  note 
which  bore  the  evidence  of  much  handling, 
though  dated  only  ten  days  previous. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Dodge:" — he  read  again — 
"  I  came  down  to  Good  Ground  yesterday  after- 
noon, and  write,  as  I  promised,  to  let  you  know 
that  everything  is  beautifully  arranged  for  the 
carrying  out  of  our  plan  for  Dan  and  Biddy. 


246  As  Having  Nothing 

Mrs.  Flett  will  be  delighted  to  have  them,  and 
Mother  and  I  are  looking  forward  very  much 
to  their  coming.  If  you  will  kindly  see  about 
putting  them  in  the  train  at  Long  Island  City, 
in  charge  of  the  conductor,  I  will  arrange  to 
meet  them  at  the  station  here,  and  drive  them 
to  the  house,  which  is  about  three  miles  away. 
I  trust  you  received  safely  my  collection  of 
East  Side  sketches,  which  I  expressed  you 
from  the  studio  yesterday  morning,  and  that 
you  will  let  me  know  if  there  is  any  alteration 
to  be  made.  We  shall  be  ready  for  the  children 
just  as  soon  as  they  can  come.  I  hate  to  think 
that  anyone  is  staying  in  that  '  City  of  Dread- 
ful Night,' — and  day — who  could  possibly  be 
down  here  by  the  ocean  ! 

"  Very  sincerely, 
"  ELIZABETH  WALLACE." 

Quick  on  the  reading,  followed  the  thread- 
bare question, — Had  she  thought  it  surly,  had 
it  been  so,  to  leave  her  letter  unanswered, 
and  only  telegraph  his  arrangements  the  night 


A  Truce  247 

before  he  had  shipped  the  children  ?  Natu- 
rally, she  was  entirely  ignorant  of  the  fact  that 
he,  Calvert  Dodge,  so  accustomed  to  plying 
the  pen  of  the  ready  writer,  had  wasted  a 
good  deal  of  time,  and  note-paper,  in  a  vacilla- 
ting indecision  between  a  reply  that  said  too 
much  and  one  that  said  too  little.  This  inde- 
cision had  finally  culminated  in  a  telegram, 
which  solved  the  difficulty  with  its  necessarily 
businesslike,  impersonal  brevity. 

He  took  up  the  envelope  again,  drew  out  a 
yellow  sheet,  and  read  :  "  Your  message  re- 
ceived. Will  gladly  meet  children  on  arrival 
of  10:30  to-morrow  morning.  E.  Wallace." 

That  was  a  whole  week  ago !  Surely,  it 
was  most  natural,  most  inevitable,  that  he 
should  feel  a  strong  desire  and  curiosity  to  see 
how  his  quondam  wards  were  doing  in  their 
new  surroundings  !  Surely  it  was  fitting,  that 
he,  as  well  as  Elizabeth,  should  share  in  the 
contemplation  of  their  excitement  and  happi- 
ness over  the  beautiful,  unexpected  vacation ! 
Surely — to  the  winds  with  sophistry  ! — surely 


248  As  Having  Nothing 

it  was  not  strange  that  he  should  wish  to  assure 
himself  that  Elizabeth  Wallace  had  forgiven 
what  she  had  chosen  to  consider  his  presump- 
tion upon  their  last  interview ;  should  wish  to 
re-establish  himself  in  her  good  graces  ! 

He  had  seen  nothing  of  Linton  for  over 
a  week.  Their  offices  being  at  so  great  a 
distance  apart  precluded  the  possibility  of 
their  often  lunching  together  ;  and  Calvert 
had  fallen,  latterly,  into  the  habit  of  taking  his 
dinner  down-town,  and  using  his  office  in  the 
evenings  for  some  outside  work,  over  which 
he  was  busy  just  at  the  moment.  Now  the 
thought  came  into  his  head  that  he  would 
look  Bertram  up  and  tell  him  of  his  sudden 
resolve.  But  quick  on  the  heels  of  this  impulse 
trod  another.  Why  see  Linton  at  all,  when, 
in  all  probability,  something  about  the  inter- 
view would  only  tend  to  confirm  his  suspicions, 
serve  to  prick  his  ridiculous  conscience,  and 
possibly  make  him  give  up  his  trip  altogether  ? 
So  far,  he  had  only  guessed  at  Linton's  interest 
in  Miss  Wallace.  Should  anything  happen  to 


A  Truce  249 

establish  it  more  surely — should  Bertram,  as 
indeed  was  not  impossible,  take  it  into  his 
head  to  confide  in  him — then  he  would  be 
shackled  indeed.  No,  he  would  not  see  Linton  ; 
he  would  take  this  one  week  as  a  gift  from  the 
gods.  He  would  let  himself  have  seven  days 
of  unthinking  enjoyment,  of  nearness  to  Eliza- 
beth, of  happy,  reckless  comradeship,  and  bury 
out  of  sight  his  Quixotic  scruples  on  Bertram's 
account.  Just  because  he  suspected  Linton's 
secret,  was  that  any  reason  why  he  should  deny 
himself  the  vacation  he  wanted  and  needed  ? 
Great  Heavens  !  The  man  was  grown  up. 
Let  him  take  care  of  himself.  Just  because  it 
was  evident  that  one  man  was  in  love  with 
Miss  Wallace,  was  that  any  reason  why  no 
other  should  see,  and  talk  to,  and  be  friends 
with  her — should  spend  a  harmless,  happy 
week  by  the  ocean  in  company  with  her  and 
the  children  they  had  both  befriended  ?  He  had 
himself  well  in  hand.  No  one  would  suffer  for 
it  but  himself  ;  and  if  he  chose  to  pay  for  those 
seven  days  in  a  bitterer  heartache  than  he  had 


250  As  Having  Nothing 

yet  known,  whose  business  was  it  but  his 
own? 

Noon  of  the  next  day,  Tuesday,  saw  him  at 
Good  Ground  ;  and  already  established  in  a 
little  square  box  of  a  room,  papered  with  fly- 
specked  paper  of  calico  pattern,  furnished  with 
a  feather-bed,  a  washstand  from  which  the  paint 
had  been  washed  away,  and  two  cane-seated 
chairs  ;  arid  filled  with  that  peculiar,  musty 
odor  which  invests  summer  hostelries  of  this 
calibre. 

Dodge  propped  open  his  two  windows  (for- 
tunately it  was  a  corner  box),  with  the  sticks 
supplied  for  that  purpose,  and  left  it  to  air, 
while  he  ate  a  brief  luncheon,  and  then  started 
for  Mrs.  Flett's  cottage.  The  walk  was  a  long 
and  dusty  one,  but  he  covered  it  in  a  wonder- 
fully short  space  of  time ;  and  felt  his  heart 
fill  at  each  step  with  a  more  exultant  sense  of 
boyish  irresponsibility  and  exhilaration. 

Arrived  at  the  cottage,  he  found  only  Mar- 
tha, who  told  him  her  whole  household  were 
over  on  the  beach  across  the  bay. 


A  Truce  25 1 

"How  can  I  get  across?"  asked  Calvert, 
fretted  at  the  delay. 

"  Well,  now,  I  don't  rightly  know — where  'd 
you  come  from  ?  "  Martha  demanded. 

"  From  Good  Ground.     Why  ?" 

"That's  a  shame,  'cause  you  could  of  got 
any  amount  of  boats  to  take  you  acrost  there. 
There  ain't  anyone  here  at  this  time  of  day. 
The  captain,  he  toted  'em  all  over,  right  after 
lunch,  and  the  next  house  is  a  right  smart  ways 
from  here."  Seeing  Calvert's  crestfallen  look, 
she  added,  with  tentative  kindness,  "  If  you 
should  feel  like  rowin',  there 's  the  old  skiff  down 
to  our  dock  yonder,"  and  she  pointed  to  a  flat- 
bottomed  tub,  about  fifty  feet  from  the  house. 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  You  're  very  kind  ! "  cried 
Dodge,  gratefully.  "  That 's  what  I  '11  do  then." 
And  five  minutes  later  the  impatient  legs  had 
given  way  to  impatient  arms  which  were  pro- 
pelling him  with  long,  vigorous  strokes  across 
the  bay. 

He  beached  his  boat  securely  beside  a  catboat 
which  he  attributed  rightly  to  Captain  Flett 


252  As  Having  Nothing 

and  his  party,  and  then  scrambled  over  the  low, 
sandy  downs,  knee-deep  in  their  mane  of  sun- 
bleached  salt-grass,  stiff  and  coarse  as  horse- 
hair. A  minute  later,  the  mighty  expanse  of 
glittering,  restless  sea  smote  his  eager  eyes, 
and  his  heart  contracted  and  then  expanded 
with  that  undying  delight  with  which  old  Nep- 
tune never  fails  to  thrill  his  lovers.  At  the 
same  instant,  he  caught  sight  of  a  little  group, 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  down  the  beach, 
partly  hidden  under  the  shade  of  a  big  white 
umbrella,  whose  handle  had  been  driven  firmly 
into  the  sand.  Towards  this  group  he  made 
his  way,  to  find  it  composed  of  Mrs.  Wallace 
and  Biddy  who  lay  curled,  a  moist  and  rosy 
little  heap  of  conquered  childhood,  sound 
asleep  on  the  corner  of  a  big  plaid  shawl 
which  had  been  spread  beneath  the  umbrella. 
She  did  not  even  blink  while  Mrs.  Wallace 
greeted  Dodge  with  effusive  and  very  gratify- 
ing pleasure.  "How  charming!"  she  cried 
delightedly  ;  "  how  very  nice  !  I  was  saying 
to  Elizabeth  only  the  other  day,  that  you  really 


A  Truce  253 

ought  to  be  getting  off  for  a  little  rest,  and 
that  it  would  be  so  nice  if  you  should  take  it 
into  your  head  to  run  down  here  and  see  for 
yourself  how  fat  your  proteges  are  getting. 
But  Elizabeth  said  she  did  n't  think  you  would 
be  able  to  come.  I  do  hope  you  are  going  to 
stay  with  us,  now  that  you  are  here  ?  Where 
are  you  stopping,  and  when  did  you  come,  and 
how  did  you  ever  find  us  in  this  out-of-the-way 
part  of  the  beach  ?  " 

Calvert  answered  this  kindly  stream  of  ques- 
tions minutely,  feeling  his  lonely  heart  inun- 
dated with  a  flood  of  warmest  gratitude  to  this 
gracious  woman  who  took  such  a  genuine  and 
frank  interest  in  his  welfare.  Then  he  asked 
for  Elizabeth. 

"  Oh,  she  is  over  there,  helping  Dan  to  build 
a  fort,  I  believe,"  indicating  a  huge  rampart  of 
sand,  some  little  distance  farther  down  the 
beach.  "  She  is  the  most  indomitably  ener- 
getic creature,  and  one  would  think  her  as 
much  of  a  child  as  Biddy  and  Dan,  she  enters 
into  their  games  so  heartily.  Yes,  go  over  and 


254  As  Having  Nothing 

surprise  her,"  she  ended,  noting  his  involuntary 
movement.  "  She  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  I 
know." 

Calvert  had  his  doubts.  But  he  rose  with 
alacrity,  nevertheless,  and  made  a  swift  on- 
slaught upon  the  ramparts,  scaling  them  so 
noiselessly  that  he  had  been  standing  for  fully 
thirty  seconds  on  the  top  looking  down  into 
the  hollow  upon  the  two  busy  workers,  whose 
faces  were  turned  from  him,  before  Elizabeth 
saw  him. 

"  Now  we  are  nearly  safe  ! "  she  was  crying 
gleefully  to  Dan.  "  Build  it  high,  Dan  !  Build 
it  high  and  strong  so  that  the  enemy  can  never 
budge  it ! " 

"  Yes  'm.  Who  did  yer  say  was  de  enemy  ? 
Tell  us  ag'in  'bout  all  dat,  Lady  !  " 

"  Why,  don't  you  remember,  Dan,  the  enemy 
is — Mr.  Dodge !  "  she  cried,  looking  up  with  a 
glowing  face.  As  she  did  so  and  saw  him  pre- 
paring to  descend,  the  sand  slipping  in  shining 
cascades  from  beneath  his  feet,  that  old,  figur- 
ative fancy  which  had  assailed  her  on  the  after- 


A  Truce  255 

noon  of  their  quarrel,  flashed  into  her  mind, 
and  the  brilliant  color  ebbed  suddenly,  while 
her  golden  eyes  grew  dark  and  wide. 

But  Dodge  would  not  let  himself  notice  the 
unflattering  change.  He  had  pulled  out  his 
white  handkerchief  and  knotted  it  to  his  stick. 
Now  he  waved  the  flag  of  truce  aloft,  and 
springing  down,  clasped  the  hands  which  the 
next  instant  Elizabeth  held  out  to  him  cordially, 
while  Dan  capered  madly  about  the  two  in  en- 
raptured delight  over  the  surprise. 

Then  the  sand-masons  laid  aside  their  tools 
and  they  all  strolled  back  to  the  "  mushroom," 
as  Elizabeth  had  dubbed  their  great  cotton  um- 
brella. Here  they  woke  Biddy,  who,  sleepily 
cross  at  first,  subsided  instantly  into  sticky  bliss 
over  a  package  which  assured  her,  better  than 
all  they  could  say,  that  here  indeed  was  the 
Santa  Claus  of  that  dimly  remembered  and  dun- 
colored  past,  before  she  and  Danny  had  come 
to  this  beautiful  new  world  which  was  nearly  all 
water,  and  one  heavenly  round  of  eating,  play- 
ing, and  sleeping. 


256  As  Having  Nothing 

Pretty  soon  she  and  Dan  departed  in  quest 
of  shells  and  seaweed  to  decorate  their  fort, 
and  Calvert  looked  after  them  with  laughing, 
approving  eyes. 

"  Well,  you  have  done  wonders  ! "  he  ex- 
claimed, honestly.  "  Who  would  ever  dream 
that  that  brace  of  fat  little  sandpipers  was  my 
pair  of  small  gutter-snipes  of  two  weeks  ago ! " 

"  Don't  they  look  well  ?"  agreed  Elizabeth, 
joyfully.  "  Biddy  was  always  rather  plump,  and 
had  a  good  deal  of  color,  even  in  New  York, 
but  she  will  soon  be  so  fat  she  can  do  nothing 
but  roll, — and  oh,  their  appetites,  Mr.  Dodge  ! 
But  then  I  must  n't  throw  stones  in  that  di- 
rection. We  are  all  anacondas  down  here,  ex- 
cept Mother,  and  even  she  is  '  able  to  sit  up 
and  notice  things  ! ' ' 

"  I  'm  sure,  Elizabeth,  I  eat  very  heartily," 
insisted  Mrs.  Wallace,  deprecatingly  ;  "  and  I 
can  really  say  I  have  never  felt  better." 

"  Indeed  you  look  it,"  said  Dodge,  feelingly  ; 
"  both  you  and  Miss  Wallace  show  nearly  as 
great  an  improvement  as  the  children  !  "  He 


A  Truce  257 

let  a  long,  happy  glance  rest  on  Elizabeth  as 
he  spoke.  She  was  indeed  refreshingly,  radi- 
antly bright  and  fair  to  look  upon  ;  gowned  in 
a  delectably  clean  crash  skirt  and  a  crisp,  pink 
linen  shirt-waist,  above  which  her  rich  face  was 
all  aglow  from  the  life-giving  sun  and  air.  She 
had  taken  off  her  white  sailor  hat,  and  pennons 
of  her  soft,  dark  hair  fluttered  in  the  salt  breeze, 
giving  her  an  air  of  youthful  dishevelment 
which  made  her  look  and  feel  like  a  girl  of 
sixteen. 

She  had  clasped  those  shapely,  sensitive 
hands  of  hers  about  her  knees,  and  was  looking 
happily  out  over  the  water.  "  I  'd  resent  that 
last  speech  of  yours  if  I  were  back  in  the  city. 
Oh  !  how  I  hate  even  the  thought  of  it ! 
Don't  let 's  even  so  much  as  mention  it  again  ! " 
she  said  gaily.  "  But  here"  she  turned  to  Cal- 
vert  with  dancing,  friendly  eyes,  "  here  nobody 
resents  anything.  Life  is  too  short  and  beau- 
tiful to  waste  over  anything  so  trivial.  You 
will  not  be  allowed  to  stay,  unless  you  have 
come  to  Arcady  in  the  same  charitable  state  of 


As  Having  Nothing 

mind,  prepared  to  leave  every  grudge  behind 
you,  and  renew  your  youth  as  Mother  and  Dan 
and  Biddy  and  I  have  done  !  Are  you  willing  ? 
Is  that  what  your  flag  of  truce  meant,  a  few 
minutes  ago?"  She  fixed  him  with  a  look 
which  seemed  to  ask,  Shall  bygones  be  by- 
gones ?  And  Calvert's  eyes  smiled  back  a 
satisfying  acquiescence  in  reply. 

"  Oh  great,  wide,  wonderful,  beautiful  world, 
With  the  wonderful  water  about  you  curled," 

surely  you  are  a  place  to  be  happy  in  !  Surely 
it  is  only  when  we  are  happy  that  we  fall  into 
step  with  your  bounding  life  !  Surely  it  is  only 
when  the  heart  throbs  strong  and  free  that  it 
becomes  a  wondrous  tuning-fork,  vibrating  in 
unison  with  the  glad,  unanimous  chord,  which 
swells  to  Heaven  from  the  earth  beneath. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

REALITIES 

"  Flower  o*  the  peach, 
Death  for  us  all,  and  his  own  life  for  each." 

HUT  up  your  sketch-box  and  be  an  or- 
dinary  mortal  for  once  !  "  urged  Calvert. 
"  Look  at  the  ocean  without  trying  to  translate 
its  water-color  in  terms  of  oil  and  canvas. 
Let  those  sea-horses  out  there  toss  their  white 
manes  in  the  sun  without  trying  to  render  the 
effect  in  brush-marks.  Play  you  're  just  an  or- 
dinary mortal  for  once  !  See,  I  've  dug  a  hole 
in  the  sand  for  you  ;  now  wrap  up  your  talent 
and  let  me  bury  it  deep  for  this  one  day."  He 
held  out  Biddy's  lunch  napkin  alluringly  as  he 
spoke.  "  We  '11  dig  it  up  again  when  we  start 
for  home — I  promise  you  ! " 

259 


260  As  Having  Nothing 

From  the  moment  when  she  had  looked  up 
at  the  sand-fort  and  seen  him  standing  before 
her — this  daring  invader  of  her  objective  and 
subjective  existence — Elizabeth  had  deter- 
mined with  a  recklessness  akin  to  that  which 
had  inspired  this  trip  of  Calvert's,  to  let  herself 
go,  and  yield,  unthinkingly,  to  the  charm  of 
congenial  companionship,  aided  and  abetted  as 
it  was  by  all  the  witchery  of  setting.  For  three 
whole  days,  they  had  walked  and  sailed,  talked, 
romped  with  the  children  or  been  silent,  to- 
gether, in  a  perfect  community  of  interest,  a 
harmony  of  enjoyment,  which  made  a  past 
where  there  had  been  discord  seem  very  far 
away  and  impossible  indeed. 

Now  she  shifted  mentally  to  his  playful 
mood  with  a  zest  which  surprised  herself  ;  and 
was  conscious  of  a  restful  relaxation  of  body 
and  spirit  as  she  closed  her  sketch-box,  folded 
it  in  the  napkin,  and  deposited  it  obediently 
in  the  new-made  grave,  laughing  as  she  did 
so, — "  That 's  what  I  fully  intended  to  do  when 
I  came  down  here,  but  this  color  is  such  a 


Realities  261 

temptation  !  I  'm  willing,  however,  if  you  are. 
But  in  return,  you  must  promise  me  to  think 
simply,  and  not  worry  to  translate  your 
thoughts  into  fit  phrases.  Words  are  just  as 
much  a  false  and  inadequate  medium  as 
colors.  We  would  have  to  keep  absolute 
silence  if  you  buried  your  talent ! " 

"Very well  !"  replied  Calvert,  with  an  oddly 
keen  glance,  "  agreed  !  We  '11  devote  to-day 
to  realities  then,  and  forget  all  artificial  con- 
ventions and  restrictions  for  a  time  ? "  An 
underlying  intensity  broke  through  the  quiet- 
ness of  his  voice  ;  then  with  a  short,  excited 
laugh,  he  flung  himself  back  on  the  sunned, 
sea-scented  sand,  digging  his  strong,  lithe 
fingers  deep  into  it ;  his  face  turned  from 
Elizabeth. 

The  strange  effect  of  her  thoughtless  words 
struck  sharp  on  the  girl's  quick  sensitiveness. 
For  a  moment,  she  was  aware  of  a  stifled 
feeling,  and  putting  up  her  hand  she  loosened 
the  sailor  knot  at  her  throat.  How  far  he 
was  from  her,  this  big  man  in  the  rough  blue 


262  As  Having  Nothing 

serge,  when  he  let  slip  his  moorings  of  work 
and  poverty,  and  allowed  himself  to  think  of 
"  realities ! " 

His  realities  were  ideals !  Strange,  that 
a  man  with  so  vivid  and  rare  a  spiritual 
side,  could  plod  on  so  nobly  at  his  practical, 
prosaic  work,  and  grow  stronger,  instead  of 
chafing,  under  the  uncongenial  conditions  of 
his  surroundings.  All  the  old  bitterness  was 
gone  ;  and  sitting  there,  looking  at  those  broad, 
rough  shoulders, — underneath  the  power  of 
the  strong  man,  appealed  to 'her  the  remem- 
brance of  his  eager  boyishness,  his  unworldly 
enthusiasm.  Her  heart  was  filled  with  a  rush 
of  yearning  tenderness,  and  she  put  up  a 
little,  involuntary,  heathenish  petition  to  the 
fates  that  happiness  might  come  to  him  in  the 
guise  he  craved  ;  even  though — even  though 
their  friendship  must  be  her  propitiatory 
sacrifice ! 

With  a  curious  substantiation  of  her  un- 
acknowledged thought,  Calvert  rolled  over  on 
one  arm  and  said,  looking  up  at  her  from  un- 


Realities  263 

der  the  rim  of  his  soft  gray  hat :  "  Do  you 
remember  that  little  thing  of  Clinton  Scol- 
lard's,  4  If  Only  the  Dreams  Abide'  ?" 

Elizabeth  sat  intensely  still.  "  No,  tell  it 
me," — and  the  deep  music  of  his  voice  re- 
peated, slowly, 

' '  If  the  things  of  earth  must  pass 
Like  the  dews  upon  the  grass, 
Like  the  mists  that  break  and  run 
At  the  forward  sweep  of  the  sun, 
I  shall.be  satisfied 
If  only  the  dreams  abide. 

1 '  Nay  ;  I  would  not  be  shorn 
Of  gold  from  the  mines  of  morn  ; 
I  would  not  be  bereft 
Of  the  last  blue  flower  in  the  cleft, 
Of  the  haze  that  haunts  the  hills, 
Of  the  moon  that  the  midnight  fills. 
Still  would  I  know  the  grace 
On  love's  uplifted  face, 
And  the  slow,  sweet  joy-dawn  there 
Under  the  dusk  of  her  hair. 

" '  I  pray  thee,  spare  me,  Fate, 
The  woeful,  wearying  weight 
Of  a  heart  that  feels  no  pain 
At  the  sob  of  the  Autumn  rain, 


264  As  Having  Nothing 

And  takes  no  breath  of  glee 

From  the  organ-surge  of  the  sea — 

Of  a  mind  where  memory  broods 

Over  songless  solitudes  : 

I  shall  be  satisfied 

If  only  the  dreams  abide.' " 

Elizabeth  made  no  comment ;  and  "  under 
the  dusk  of  her  hair,"  her  eyelids  were  drooped 
absently,  hiding  depths  into  which  Calvert 
longed  to  look. 

She  was  musing  how  true  it  was, — what  she 
had  just  been  thinking — that  this  man's  dreams 
were  his  realities !  And  Joan — Joan  was  the 
centre  about  which  his  dreams  revolved.  Her 
mind  reverted  suddenly  to  Joan's  letters,  which 
had  been  disquieting,  because  so  very  unsatis- 
factory. Once  in  a  while  she  would  touch  upon 
Elizabeth's  remarks  on  the  subject  of  Calvert 
Dodge  and  his  interest  in  her;  but  either  so 
lightly,  so  fitfully,  or  with  such  mock  serious- 
ness, that  Elizabeth  could  not  make  up  her 
mind  whether  she  was  really  becoming  at  all 
interested  in  him  or  not.  Suppose,  suppose 
that  Joan  should  never  care  !  Such  strange 


Realities  265 

perversities  of  fate  have  been.  And  Eliza- 
beth's soul  again  was  swept  with  the  ardent 
wish  that  all  would  be  well  with  these  two 
dearest  friends  of  hers. 

Calvert  spoke. 

"  '  Contentment  is  better  than  riches/ "  he 
quoted  grimly  ;  "  the  man  who  wrote  that  was 
a  fool !"  Then,  "To-day  is  dedicated  to  reali- 
ties. Will  you  go  for  a  sail  with  me  this  after- 
noon, Miss  Wallace  ?" 

For  all  answer,  Elizabeth  gripped  his  sleeve 
in  a  tight  grasp.  "  Look  !"  she  cried.  "Look 
there  !  Oh,  Mr.  Dodge,  I  'm  afraid  Dan  is  in 
trouble  !  He  is  calling,  out  there  in  the  water ; 
but  I  can't  hear  what  he  says.  Oh,  he  \sgone  /  " 

Dodge  sprang  to  his  feet.  A  little  way  off, 
Biddy  was  wading  happily,  the  water  rippling 
about  her  brown  little  knees,  her  skirts  tucked 
up  into  a  bunch  behind,  which  gave  her  the 
appearance  of  a  young  stork.  Out  beyond  the 
rope  which  was  Dan's  limit,  as  a  wave  lowered 
its  crest,  Calvert  saw  a  little  dark  head,  which 
showed  an  instant,  and  then  sank  again. 


266  As  Having  Nothing 

Before  Elizabeth  could  think  collectedly,  she 
found  herself  crouching  on  the  sand  beside  a 
pair  of  tan  shoes*  and  a  blue  serge  coat,  while 
a  tall,  shirt-sleeved  figure  cleared  the  space  be- 
tween her  and  the  sea  in  a  shorter  time  than 
she  would  have  thought  possible  ;  and  in  an- 
other moment  had  splashed  into  the  water, 
making  towards  the  place  where  that  tiny  dark 
head  had  last  been.  An  instant  later  he,  too, 
had  disappeared,  and  Elizabeth  knew  that  he 
had  dived,  and  was  swimming  under  water. 
Mechanically,  she  reached  out  her  hand,  and 
laid  it  on  the  blue  coat  at  her  side.  The 
touch  of  its  rough  surface  reassured  her,  as  if 
some  latent  strength  from  the  man  had  passed 
into  the  garment,  and  still  lingered.  Her  swift 
terror  for  Calvert  ebbed  rapidly.  She  knew 
that  there  was  small  danger  for  that  strong 
man  ;  but — for  the  little  child — would  he  come 
too  late  !  The  waves  raced  and  laughed  along 
the  shore  in  a  heartless  indifference  to  the 
commonplace  tragedy  of  the  moment,  and 
Biddy's  bright  little  figure  waded  placidly  in 


Realities  267 

the  shoals,  unconscious  of  the  whole  thing. 
Elizabeth  kept  her  fingers  clasped  on  the  serge 
sleeve  until  she  saw  the  two  heads  emerge 
from  beneath  that  sparkling  surface.  Then 
she  drew  her  hand  away,  and  rising,  ran  down 
to  the  shore  to  meet  them. 

When  Calvert  reached  the  shallows  and  be- 
gan to  wade  out,  she  saw  that  he  was  carrying 
the  boy,  and  that  the  little  form  hung  limp  in 
his  strong  clasp.  "  O  God  ! "  she  prayed,  in 
an  inward  agony,  "  don't  let  him  be  dead  ! " 
But  when  Calvert  reached  her  she  smiled 
bravely  into  his  face. 

"  He  is  overcome,"  she  said  ;  "we  will  have 
him  all  right  in  a  minute  ! " 

Calvert  nodded.  "  Get  the  flask  from  my 
coat-pocket,"  he  said  shortly  ;  and  kneeling  on 
the  sand,  he  began  to  chafe  the  little  body 
with  supple,  efficient  hands. 

Elizabeth  brought  the  flask,  and  then  knelt 
by  his  side.  "Tell  me,  too,"  she  begged;  "let 
me  help ! " 

Calvert  gave  some  quick  directions,  which 


268  As  Having  Nothing 

the  girl  followed  with  intuitive  precision.  Af- 
ter they  had  been  rubbing,  it  seemed  to  Eliza- 
beth for  hours,  she  raised  her  eyes  pitifully, 
and  they  met  Calvert's  across  the  still  little 
figure.  He  smiled  for  the  first  time.  "  Don't 
despair,  dear," — and  they  returned  to  the  mo- 
notonous movement. 

Suddenly,  a  cry  from  Biddy  smote  on  their 
ears.  She  had  run  up  behind,  unnoticed,  to 
see  what  this  curious  game  might  be  that 
"Misser  Dodge  and  Lady"  were  playing  in 
the  sand.  "  Oh,  why  did  mine  Danny  go  to 
sleep  in  de  daytime  ? "  she  demanded.  "  Is 
yer  tryin'  ter  wake  him  up  ?  Biddy  '11  wake 
him — Danny  ! "  she  called,  stooping  down  and 
putting  her  little  mouth  close  to  his  ear, 
"  Danny,  wake  up  ! " 

There  was  no  answer  ;  and  something  in  the 
quiet,  unnatural  pallor  of  Danny's  freckled  face 
smote  her  childish  heart  with  fear.  Her  lip 
trembled,  and  she  began  to  whimper.  Then 
before  they  could  stop  her,  she  had  flung  her- 
self down  on  top  of  the  wet  little  figure,  and 


Realities  269 

putting  her  arms  about  his  neck,  "  Oh  Danny, 
Danny !  "  she  wailed,  "please  talk  to  Biddy  ! 
wake  up,  Danny  ! " 

The  cry  of  love  may  have  pierced  through 
the  mists,  for  a  moment  later,  Calvert's  trained 
hand  detected  a  slight  flutter  in  the  little  breast. 
Crying,  "  He 's  all  right,  he 's  coming  round  ! 
Take  Biddy  away  ! "  he  went  at  the  chafing 
with  redoubled  energy,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
was  able  to  force  down  enough  brandy  to  pro- 
duce a  slight  choking  sound,  which  Elizabeth 
thought  the  most  welcome  she  had  ever  heard. 

A  little  while  longer,  and  all  danger  was 
over ;  and  Dan  himself,  gasping  and  weak, 
opened  his  eyes  and  looked  about  him  in  a 
dazed  way.  "  Hully  Gee!"  he  said  feebly. 
"  Where  am  I  at  ?  " 

Dodge  smiled.  "  You  had  a  pretty  close 
shave  from  drowning,  Dan,"  he  said  ;  "  but 
you  're  all  right  now,  I  guess.  Hello,  sit  up 
there,  how  goes  it  ?  Head  pretty  dizzy,  eh  ? " 

Dan  turned  troubled  eyes  upon  the  sea,  their 
anxious  expression  giving  place  to  a  blissful 


270  As  Having  Nothing 

content.  "  Yes  sir — but  de  ocean 's  here,  ain't 
it  ?  I  dreamt  as  I  swallered  it,  last  t'ing  I  re- 
member," he  said  confusedly.  "  Why,  you  're 
all  wet,  Mr.  Dodge,"  he  volunteered,  a  few  min- 
utes later  ;  "  I  bet  yer  wot,  yer  come  arter  me — 
wid yer  clothes  on  /  "  he  added,  in  an  awestruck 
voice. 

Calvert  admitted  the  impeachment,  and 
Dan's  head  drooped  shamedly.  "  Tank  yer, 
sir,"  he  said  slowly,  and  in  a  low  voice  ;  "  I  was 
a  bad  un  to  come  arter.  Lady  said  not  to  go 
beyant  the  rope,  but  I  did.  Did  yer  know  it  ? 
— Would  yer  'a'  come  arter  me  ef  yer'd  'a' 
knowed  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  Dan,  of  course  ! "  cried  Elizabeth, 
laying  her  soft  hand  on  the  boy's  wet  curls. 
"  Dear  little  boy,  we  're  not  angry  a  bit.  You 
see  yourself,  now,  why  I  told  you  not  to  go  out 
farther  than  the  rope  ;  and  it  was  such  a  hard  les- 
son to  learn  that  I  know  you  '11  never  forget  it ! " 

Dan's  Irish  mouth  broadened  into  his  con- 
tagious, Irish  grin.  "  Well,  ef  you  ain't  a  couple 
o'  toffs  ! "  was  all  he  said,  in  his  weak  little  voice  ; 


Realities  271 

but  both  Elizabeth  and  Calvert  knew  that,  if 
they  lived  to  a  green  old  age,  they  would  never 
receive  a  higher  tribute  to  their  magnanimity 
than  that. 

Calvert  bundled  Dan  warmly  in  his  coat ; 
and  then,  stooping,  picked  him  up  and  strode 
away  with  him  across  the  sands,  at  a  half  trot, 
in  order  to  get  up  his  own  circulation.  Eliza- 
beth caught  Biddy's  hand,  and  followed  with  a 
gay  heart.  How  blue  the  sky  was — "  a  tur- 
quoise scroll  !  "  How  white  the  gleaming 
sands !  How  friendly  the  erstwhile  hostile 
water ! — "  Laugh,  and  the  world  laughs  with 
you  ! " — how  true  it  is  ! 

At  the  door  of  the  cottage  Calvert  paused 
to  say,  "  I  'm  just  going  to  slip  over  and  put 
on  some  dry  togs.  It's  getting  late.  By  the 
time  you  Ve  had  lunch,  I  '11  be  back  to  claim 
that  promised  sail." 

Elizabeth  failed  to  remember  that  she  had 
made  any  promise ;  but  she  only  said  warmly. 
"  All  right,  I  '11  be  ready.  Be  sure  you  change 
everything — and  stop  for  some  hot  lunch  your- 
self!" 


CHAPTER   XIV 

VOLUNTARY    EXILE 

"  Break  the  string  ;  fold  music's  wing ; 
Suppose  Pauline  had  bade  me  sing  ! " 

REAT  SOUTH  BAY  lay,  a  sheet  of 
* — >  copper,  under  the  last  rays  of  the  setting 
sun.  A  crisp  breeze  which  had  been  coquetting 
with  the  water  all  the  afternoon  had  now  ficklely 
deserted  ;  and  the  dancing,  laughing  expanse  of 
waves  had  settled  down  demurely,  blushing  into 
placid  resignation  over  their  former  frivolity. 
All  about  the  horizon,  sails  hung  motionless, 
like  brooding  seabirds.  Calvert  Dodge  had 
been  tacking  cleverly  and  coaxingly  for  the  past 
ten  minutes,  luring  the  bored  breeze  into  his 
canvas  with  every  art  known  to  a  good  sailor ; 

while   Elizabeth  applauded  his  success  incit- 

272 


Voluntary  Exile  273 

ingly,  till  their  snail-like  progress  became  as 
exciting  as  a  race.  Suddenly  the  keel  of  the 
boat  raised  itself  slightly  with  a  soft,  sliding 
decision.  Immediately,  the  almost  impercepti- 
ble motion  ceased,  and  the  faintly  bellying  sail 
drooped  in  abject  surrender. 

"  Oh  ! "  gasped  Elizabeth,  with  a  soft,  down- 
ward inflection,  "  we  are  aground." 

Calvert  looked  up  at  her  like  a  mischievous 
schoolboy.  "  It  looks  that  way,"  he  agreed, 
smiling.  "  Please,  are  you  going  to  stand  me 
up  in  a  row,  '  Lady '  ?  It  is  n't  my  fault  that 
we  are  prisoners  at  the  Bar,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Put  out  your  oar  and  poke  !  "  commanded 
Elizabeth,  ignoring  with  obvious  scorn  this 
feeble  joke. 

After  ten  minutes  of  silent  and  strenuous 
obedience,  Dodge  dropped,  hot  and  perspiring, 
on  the  front  of  the  boat.  "  Whew  !  "  he  said, 
and  then  prepared,  meekly,  to  continue  his 
exertions. 

"  Oh,  rest  /  "  laughed  the  girl,  ruefully ;  "  it 's 
perfectly  useless,  for  if  you  could  push  off, 

18 


274  As  Having  Nothing 

there 's  not  a  breath  of  wind  left  to  take  us 
home.  It 's  no  use  trying  any  more  till  it  blows 
up  again  at  least." 

"  I  don't  believe  we  can  get  off  till  the  tide 
rises,"  cheerfully  remarked  Calvert,  who  had 
resumed  his  seat  with  alacrity. 

"  Oh,  dear  !  and  we  are  at  least  five  miles 
from  home  now  !  and  the  tide  does  n't  rise  till 
after  eight  to-night !  I  was  afraid  we  would  be 
late  anyhow  ;  and  now — what  time  is  it  ?  "  de- 
manded Elizabeth. 

Calvert  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
leaned  his  head  back  against  the  mast,  while  a 
reckless  light  shot  his  gray  eyes.  "  I  'm  not 
going  to  look,"  he  said,  with  a  hint  of  master- 
fulness in  his  tone.  "  It  won't  hasten  matters 
one  bit ;  and  you  're  not  to  worry  over  the 
time.  We  are  not  to  blame  that  this  has  hap- 
pened, and  we  can't  help  it.  We  pledged  our- 
selves to  give  up  to-day  to  realities,  and  Fate 
has  taken  us  at  our  word.  It  would  be  an  ab- 
surd dereliction  to  consult  a  watch,  which  is, 
above  all  things,  the  most  arbitrary  and  me- 


Voluntary  Exile  275 

chanical  contrivance  man  ever  imposed  upon 
humanity.  We  will  tell  time  by  the  real  clocks 
of  Nature.  There 's  the  sun  ! "  And  he  waved 
a  genial  hand  towards  the  red  -  hot  orb  just 
sinking  behind  the  distant  shore-line. 

"  Yes,  and  your  clock  is  running  down ! " 
said  Elizabeth  mutinously ;  but  with  a  treach- 
erous sense  of  acquiescence,  that  was  beginning 
to  wrap  her  around,  and  unite  her  to  the  uni- 
versal calm. 

"  Well — then  here  comes  the  moon  as  sub- 
stitute ! "  said  Calvert,  pointing  to  the  dark 
amethyst  streak  of  sea  to  the  east,  above  which 
a  faint  silvery  rim  of  full  moon  was  just  show- 
ing. "  Could  you  ask  a  more  perfect  example 
of  Nature's  economy  in  demand  and  supply  ? " 

Elizabeth  said  nothing.  Her  realization  of 
the  inevitable  held  her  convincingly.  After  all, 
why  not  make  the  most  of  it,  and  enjoy  the 
wonderful  evening  glamour  ungrudgingly, 
since,  as  her  companion  had  said,  they  could 
not  better  matters  ?  She  looked  over  towards 
the  Shinnecock  Hills  opposite  which  they  were 


276  As  Having  Nothing 

becalmed.  "  Does  n't  it  look  like  one  of  Chase's 
pictures  that  has  got  religion  from  Corot  ? " 
she  said,  with  a  smile  that  told  Calvert  she  was 
resigned  to  the  situation.  "  Why  is  it,"  she 
went  on,  as  he  laughed  companionably,  "  that 
we  never  are  content  to  say  that  a  thing  is 
beautiful  of  its  kind  and  leave  it,  but  must  al- 
ways be  comparing  it  with  something  else  ? 
When  we  see  a  wonderful  sunset  painted,  we 
say,  '  how  like  nature  ! '  and  then,  poor,  narrow 
things,  we  must  needs  exclaim  over  the  actual 
thing,  that  it  is  '  beautiful  as  a  picture  ! ' ' 

"  That's  very  true,  I  think.  And  the  more 
far-fetched  the  comparison,  the  better  pleased 
we  are.  This  morning,  on  the  beach,  I  saw  an 
old  tree  washed  up,  and  immediately  approved 
of  myself  because  its  skeleton  branches  re- 
minded me  of  a  wrecked  ship  with  gaping, 
sun-bleached  ribs ! " 

"Well,  I  don't  care  if  it  is  foolish,"  said 
Elizabeth,  decidedly  ;  "  I  would  not  barter  my 
imagination  for  anything  in  the  world.  To  be 
sure,  it  hinders  me  and  plays  me  false  at  times, 


Voluntary  Exile  277 

but  weighed  in  the  balance  with  the  help  and 
enjoyment  it  has  given  me,  that  is  nothing. 
The  other  day,  I  had  been  shopping  in  the 
city.  Such  a  hot,  dusty,  deadly,  prosaic  morn- 
ing !  As  I  walked  home  up  the  baking  street, 
past  those  eyeless  rows  of  empty  houses  boarded 
from  the  dust, — houses  whose  happy  souls  had 
deserted  for  green  fields  and  pastures  new, — I 
felt  just  as  dingy  and  sordid  and  hopelessly 
left  behind  as  the  scraps  of  paper  that  the  hot 
wind  was  blowing  up  and  down  in  the  neglected 
street.  Then,  suddenly,  I  came  to  a  corner 
house.  The  whole  side  was  covered  with  the 
coolest,  freshest,  glossiest  green  ivy !  The 
breeze  was  blowing  it,  shaking  it  in  big  waves  ; 
and  the  fancy  came  into  my  head  that  it  was  a 
great,  green  tapestry,  behind  whose  majestic 
swaying  all  sorts  of  fascinating  things  were 
hidden.  And,  do  you  know,  that  one,  small, 
insignificant  thought  kept  me  happy  all  the 
rest  of  the  day ! " 

Calvert,  who  had  listened  comprehendingly, 
nodded  his  head  with  an  acquiescent,  apprecia- 


278  As  Having  Nothing 

tive  smile.  "  I  understand.  The  shadows  of 
branches,  flung  by  an  electric  light,  have  given 
me  the  same  out-of-proportion  delight,  time  and 
again.  I  sometimes  think  it  is  the  little  things 
that  give  the  greatest  pleasure.  It  seems  con- 
tradictory, but  I  imagine  there  is  a  reason  for  it." 

Elizabeth  leaned  forward  eagerly.  "  Oh, 
have  you  noticed  that  too  ?"  she  said;  "what 
is  it?" 

"  Perhaps,  after  all,  we  make  the  mistake  in 
calling  them  little,"  said  Calvert  slowly,  feeling 
for  his  thought  in  a  way  that  showed  its  ex- 
pression was  new  to  him.  "  I  am  tempted  to 
wonder  if  a  thing  is  ever  little  when  it  rouses 
an  intense  feeling  in  our  hearts  ?  It  is  often 
these  little  things,  or  rather,  our  sudden  re- 
alization of  the  beauty  with  which  they  are  so 
big,  that  lifts,  for  a  moment,  the  curtain,  and 
shows  us  the  abstract  quality  of  beauty,  with 
a  keenness  of  vision  which  something  so  great 
in  itself  as  to  overshadow  its  attributes,  fails  to 
do.  It  does  not  strike  us,  I  think,  as  anything 
to  be  wondered  at,  that  beauty  or  power  should 


Voluntary  Exile  279 

be  expended  on  a  thing  so  great  as  to  be  worthy 
of  expense ;  but  when  we  find  it  lavished  on 
some  trivial  detail  of  life  or  nature,  we  are  up- 
borne by  the  strength  and  reality  and  abun- 
dance of  the  attribute,  the  abstract  quality 
itself.  You  understand  what  I  mean,  I  know, 
even  if  I  do  express  myself  so  poorly." 

"  Indeed  I  do  see,"  said  Elizabeth,  respon- 
sively,  who  had  in  fact  seen  his  thought  as  a 
whole  long  before  he  had  unfolded  it. 

Watching  the  moon  rise  over  the  sea,  silence 
fell  on  them  like  a  mantle,  woven  of  the  slowly 
enveloping  dusk.  Long  time  they  sat  so,  mo- 
tionless and  entranced,  the  crowding  thoughts 
that  had  been  uttering  themselves  all  the  after- 
noon in  a  quick,  inspiring  interchange  of  speech, 
hushed  to  a  sensation  of  common  appreciation 
of  the  peaceful  beauty  around  them,  the  beau- 
tiful peace  within  them.  Gradually,  the  shore, 
with  its  dotted  homes  and  hints  of  alien  life, 
withdrew  into  obscurity,  and  then  twinkled 
into  lights  that  seemed  no  more  earthly  or  dis- 
turbing than  the  stars. 


280  As  Having  Nothing 

A  little  later,  Calvert  stooped  quietly  and 
drew  out  his  mandolin-case,  which  Elizabeth 
had  seen  him  put  into  the  boat  when  they 
started.  Still,  without  speaking,  he  began  to 
play,  very  softly,  a  sad,  little  minor  melody, 
exquisite  in  its  simple  and  haunting  pathos. 
The  mandolin,  with  its  indelible  association 
with  Italy,  and  the  two  dear  years  there,  had 
a  personal  and  very  vital  quality  for  Elizabeth. 
The  quivering  sweetness  of  the  knife-like  notes 
seemed  to  insinuate  itself  through  her  breast, 
and  she  felt  as  if  her  very  heart-strings  were 
vibrating  in  painfully  sweet  unison.  Suddenly, 
the  melody  changed  to  a  dreamily  happy  key ; 
and  Elizabeth  became  aware  that  he  was  put- 
ting the  words  he  had  quoted  that  morning  to 
music  : 

"  If  the  things  of  earth  must  pass 
Like  the  dews  upon  the  grass, 
Like  the  mists  that  break  and  run 
At  the  forward  sweep  of  the  sun, 
I  shall  be  satisfied, 
If  only  the  dreams  abide. 


Voluntary  Exile  281 

"  Still  would  I  know  the  grace 
On  Love's  uplifted  face, 
And  the  slow,  sweet  joy-dawn  there, 
Under  the  dusk  of  her  hair." 

Elizabeth  moved  restlessly,  and  leaned  for- 
ward, speaking  in  a  voice  that,  in  its  attempt 
to  hide  the  feeling  Calvert's  music  had  roused, 
sounded  like  a  discord  to  them  both.  "  Look 
at  the  moon's  reflection,"  she  said,  lightly ;  "a 
while  ago  there  was  only  one.  Now  it  looks 
as  if  someone  were  juggling  golden  balls. 
That  means  the  water  has  begun  to  rock,  and 
the  breeze  is  coming." 

Even  as  she  spoke,  a  cold,  little  wind  touched 
them.  Both  felt  its  chilly  fingers  at  the  same 
moment ;  and  the  girl's  heart  shrank  into  itself 
with  a  frightened  memory  of  her  softened 
mood.  "  Now  it  looks  like  golden  hieroglyph- 
ics ! "  she  said,  with  a  nervous  little  laugh 
that  only  sounded  careless.  Without  a  word, 
Calvert  sprang  up  and  began  to  attend  to  the 
sail,  which  filled  generously  with  the  growing 
breeze.  They  were  away  instantly.  For  with- 


282  As  Having  Nothing 

out  the  realization  of  either,  the  tide  had  risen 
and  drifted  them  across  the  bar  some  time  be- 
fore. In  a  few  minutes  the  wind  began  to 
blow  strong  and  fresh ;  and  their  increasing 
speed  exhilarated  Elizabeth,  as  swift  sailing 
never  failed  to  do.  "  See  ! "  she  cried,  with  a 
childlike  abandon,  trailing  her  fingers  in  the 
glittering  water ;  "  now  the  reflection  is  pulled 
out  to  long,  shining,  Chinese  lanterns.  Pret- 
ty soon,  it  will  change  to  the  pebbly  path 
that  leads  to  '  the  garden  behind  the  moon  !  ' 
There !  I  told  you.  Now  does  n't  it  look 
like  golden  pebbles  ?  " 

"Yes,  what  a  pity  anything  so  beautiful 
should  be  all  moonshine  !  "  said  Calvert,  with 
a  sort  of  curt  bitterness. 

"  Oh,  you  are  turning  traitor  to  your  pet 
theories  ! "  mocked  Elizabeth  lightly.  "  '  The 
moon  that  the  midnight  fills'  is  one  of  the 
dreams  that  satisfy,  you  know." 

"  I  '11  be  hanged  if  it  does  ! "  muttered  Cal- 
vert savagely,  pulling  at  the  ropes,  and  bring- 
ing the  boom  over  with  a  suddenness  that 


Voluntary  Exile  283 

caused  Elizabeth  to  duck  quickly  and  utter  a 
little  exclamation  of  excitement. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon ! "  Calvert  cried, 
contritely.  "  What  a  stupid  brute  I  was  !  That 
might  have  hurt  you.  Are  you  sure  it  did  n't 
touch  you  ?  "  The  warm,  friendly  concern  in 
his  voice  reassured  Elizabeth,  who  had  been 
conscious  of  some  strain  during  the  last  few 
minutes.  How  absurd  of  her  to  think  wild 
thoughts !  This  man  was  her  good  friend  and 
companion.  She  had  been  a  fool  fifteen  min- 
utes ago.  She  flung  her  head  back  proudly, 
with  a  gratifying  reassumption  of  the  old  inde- 
pendence. "  Ah,  how  I  love  the  wind  and  the 
sea  ! "  she  exclaimed  enthusiastically.  "  When- 
ever I  get  on  the  water  I  think  of  what  Brown- 
ing said  :  do  you  remember  ? — 

"  My  soul 

Smoothed  itself  out,  a  long-cramped  scroll, 
Freshening  and  fluttering  in  the  wind." 

Calvert  started  uncontrollably.  Strange, 
some  lines  of  that  very  poem  had  been  warm  in 
his  brain  a  few  minutes  since  ! — 


284  As  Having  Nothing 

"  I  and  my  mistress  side  by  side, 
Shall  be  together,  breathe  and  ride, 
So  one  day  more  am  I  deified. 
Who  knows  but  the  world  may  end  to-night  ? " 

"  Do  you  know  what  poem  that  is?"  he  de- 
manded uncertainly,  breathlessly. 

The  remembrance  had  just  struck  Elizabeth, 
and  she  could  have  bitten  out  her  tongue  to 
recall  her  words.  Her  mind  fluttered  help- 
lessly for  some  utterly  foreign  topic  on  which 
to  cling,  and  she  grasped  eagerly  at  the  first 
thought  that  came,  unconscious  of  how  sug- 
gestive it  might  sound  to  Calvert. 

"Oh,  I  heard  from  Mr.  Linton  to-day!" 
she  said  quickly  ;  "  he  is  coming  down  to  spend 
Sunday.  I  knew  you  would  be  glad  to  hear 
it." 

Calvert  shrank  back  as  if  from  a  blow. 
"Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  before?"  he 
said 

"  Why,  why — I  don't  know,  I  'm  sure.  I 
meant  to  tell  you  as  soon  as  I  saw  you.  I 
found  the  letter  when  we  reached  home  this 


Voluntary  Exile  285 

morning.  Jimmie  had  brought  it.  Something 
must  have  put  it  out  of  my  head,"  she  added, 
helplessly,  with  a  sense,  somehow,  of  wrong — 
to  whom — to  what — she  could  not  understand. 
She  had  certainly  meant  to  speak  of  it,  and  at 
once.  A  shamed  surprise  welled  in  her  heart 
as  she  recognized  that  she  had  not  given  the 
subject  another  thought  from  the  moment  that 
Calvert  came  for  her. 

They  had  nearly  reached  home  and  Dodge 
was  again  occupied  with  the  sail,  as  he  prepared 
to  bring  up  to  the  little  wharf. 

"  I  'm  sorry  I  shall  not  see  him,"  he  said 
stiffly  ;  "  I  'm  going  back  to-morrow." 

"  Are  you  ?  I  thought  you  were  going  to 
stay  a  week.  That  will  not  be  up  till  Tues- 
day, will  it  ?  I  thought  we  would  all  have 
such  a  nice  time  together ! "  Elizabeth's  tone 
was  eager,  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  I  can't.  I  'm  sorry,  but  it  happens  I  got 
a  letter,  too,  when  I  reached  the  hotel.  It 
was  from  my  chief,  and  it  seems  they  want  me 
to  run  over  to  England,  on  business." 


286  As  Having  Nothing 

"To  England  !  "  exclaimed  Elizabeth,  dully. 
"It's  very  sudden,  isn't  it?  I  didn't  know 
you  were  thinking  of  such  a  thing." 

"  I  was  n't.  Life  is  sudden,  at  times.  Man 
proposes,  and — a  paper  disposes  !  I  suppose 
I  could  decline  to  go,  but  under  the  circum- 
stances, I  think  I  shall  accept." 

They  had  drawn  in  against  the  wharf,  and 
with  a  short  laugh,  Dodge  sprang  out  and  held 
the  boat  fast  with  one  hand,  reaching  the  other 
to  Elizabeth.  She  did  not  notice  it,  however, 
but  scrambled  out  by  herself  and  then  moved 
slowly  along  the  dock  while  he  moored  the 
boat  securely. 

"Under  the  circumstances!" — His  words 
repeated  themselves  in  her  mind,  and  then  she 
raised  her  head  with  a  swift  comprehension. 
"  Of  course  you  must  not  miss  the  opportu- 
nity," she  said  blithely,  when,  having  made  all 
fast,  Calvert  joined  her.  "  That  would  be  fool- 
ish indeed.  And  while  you  are  over  there  you 
must  manage  to  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone 
and  see  Joan.  I  will  give  you  a  note  to  her. 


Voluntary  Exile  287 

She  knows  about  you  and  will  be  so  glad  to  have 
you  call." 

"Joan?"  repeated  Dodge,  vaguely. 

"Yes,  Joan — Miss  Whetmore,  the  Wisp, 
your  ideal,  you  know,"  said  Elizabeth,  laugh- 
ing brightly  ;  "  I  do  think  this  is  the  most  in- 
teresting development  of  all,  after  your  having 
missed  her  so  many  times  here.  It  is  what 
Mr.  Stockton  would  call  an  '  assisted  des- 
tiny ' ! " 

Calvert  echoed  her  laugh  a  bit  harshly. 
"  To  be  sure,  my  ideal  !  My  ideal  is  a  Will  o' 
the  Wisp  !  Yes,  I  shall  take  pleasure  in  look- 
ing Miss  Whetmore  up." 

As  he  spoke,  they  came  in  sight  of  the  cot- 
tage, and  one  of  two  dark  figures  sitting  on  the 
tiny  porch  rose  with  a  low  exclamation  of  relief 
and  stepped  out  into  the  moonlight  to  greet 
them.  "  Oh,  Elizabeth,  love,  Martha  and  I 
have  been  so  worried  about  you  !  What  kept 
you  so  late  ? " 

Elizabeth  drew  her  mother's  arm  through 
her  own  and  moved  close  to  her  side  as  the 


288  As  Having  Nothing 

three  walked  up  the  little  path.  "  We  were 
becalmed,  Madre,"  she  said,  brightly ;  "  and 
stuck  on  a  sand-bar,  besides.  Everything 
seemed  to  conspire  to  make  us  late  to-night." 

"  Ah,  Captain  Flett  said  it  was  the  calm, 
but  I  was  too  anxious  to  believe  him ; "  and 
Mrs.  Wallace  gave  a  contented  sigh.  "  Martha 
kept  your  supper  for  you,  dear.  You  must  be 
as  hungry  as  bears,  both  of  you  !  Won't  you 
come  in  and  have  something  to  eat,  too,  Mr. 
Dodge?  I  am  sure  there  is  plenty,  for  Mrs. 
Flett  is  a  most  ample  provider." 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Wallace.  I  'm  afraid  I 
can't.  I  am  starting  for  the  city  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning,  and  I  must  throw  my  things 
together  to-night.  I  'm  off  for  a  long  trip,"  he 
added. 

"  Mr.  Dodge  is  going  abroad,"  put  in  Eliza- 
beth, quickly.  "  He  sails  for  England  this 
week  and  will  probably  see  Joan  over  there. 
Is  n't  that  nice  ?  I  have  promised  to  write 
him  a  note  for  her.  If  you  '11  wait  just  a  minute 
I  '11  do  it  now,"  she  ended,  and  ran  into  the 


Voluntary  Exile  289 

house  leaving  Calvert  to  tell  Mrs.  Wallace, 
who  was  greatly  interested,  as  much  as  he  him- 
self knew  of  his  sudden  plans. 

In  a  few  minutes  Elizabeth  came  out  again 
with  the  note  in  her  hand,  and  Calvert  rose  at 
once  to  make  his  adieus.  After  he  had  said 
good-by  to  Mrs.  Wallace  he  turned  to  Eliza- 
beth and  took  her  hand  in  a  close  grasp.  It 
felt  cold  and  unresponsive  to  him,  and  when 
the  girl,  raising  her  eyes  with  some  common- 
place little  remark,  met  the  earnest,  inscrutable 
expression  in  his,  he  felt  a  motion  of  with- 
drawal in  her  fingers,  and  loosening  them  ab- 
ruptly, he  turned  away  and  walked  quickly 
down  the  little  path. 

Rather  blindly  however.  For  just  beyond 
the  gate  he  ran  full  tilt  into  Captain  Flett  who 
was  ruminating  peacefully  over  his  corn-cob 
pipe,  which  was  indeed  as  inseparable  from 
him  as  a  cud.  The  shock  knocked  the  pipe  to 
the  ground,  and  Dodge  fumbled  for  it  with  an 
unsteady  hand,  and  handed  it  back  with  an  in- 
coherent apology  for  his  "  awkwardness." 


290  As  Having  Nothing 

Captain  Flett  dusted  off  his  cherished  pos- 
session with  deliberate  fingers.  "  'T  isn't  that 
ye  be  so  awkward,"  he  said,  weighing  the 
matter  with  reflective  consideration,  "  as  that 
ye  act  so  d awkward  ! "  But  when  he  fin- 
ished and  looked  up,  Dodge  was  already  a  rap- 
idly diminishing  figure  on  the  lonely  road. 

As  he  had  so  suddenly  planned,  Calvert 
took  the  early  train  into  the  city  and  went 
straight  to  the  office  to  get  further  details 
about  the  unexpected  commission  which  he 
had  been  asked  to  undertake.  He  found  him- 
self agreeing  to  start  at  once — "  the  sooner 
the  better  "•  —by  a  steamer  that  sailed  that  very 
afternoon,  in  fact ;  and,  the  interview  concluded, 
he  was  just  hurrying  out  of  the  building  on 
his  way  up-town,  when  he  almost  ran  into  Ber- 
tram Linton,  hurrying  in  the  opposite  direction. 

"  Hello,  Dodge  ! "  cried  Bertram.  "  Where 
are  you  off  to  so  fast  ?  I  'm  going  down  to 
Good  Ground  this  afternoon,  and  raced  down 
here  to  see  if  I  could  n't  get  you  to  come  with 
me.  Miss  Wallace  is  down  there  with  her 


Voluntary  Exile  291 

mother,  you  know.  Don't  you  want  to 
come  ?  " 

The  friendliness  of  his  tone  caused  Calvert 
to  wince  inwardly.  How  utterly  trustful  and 
unconscious  Bertram  was !  Dodge  turned 
away  his  eyes  from  his  friend's  eager  ones  as 
he  said,  shortly :  "  Sorry  I  can't,  Linton,  but 
I  Ve  been  called  home  on  business,  and  am  off 
to  the  other  side  to-night." 

"  The  other  side  !  Well,  that  is  a  departure. 
What  is  it?" 

"  Oh,  some  work  in  connection  with  the  Sun- 
day issues, — a  series  of  letters  from  the  British 
Isles.  I  'm  expected  to  tag  the  tourists,  I  be- 
lieve. They  manage  these  things  better  out 
West.  There,  the  foreign  correspondent  sits 
at  home  and  writes  letters  from  all  over  the 
globe  without  moving  from  his  desk !  But 
speaking  of  tourists,  Miss  Wallace  gave  me  a 
letter  to  the  Whetmores,  and  I  mean  to  try  to 
look  them  up.  I  Ve  been  down  to  Good 
Ground  myself  for  a  few  days,  and  only  came 
up  this  morning.  Miss  Wallace  told  me  you 


292  As  Having  Nothing 

were  coming,"  he  ended,  striving  to  make  his 
voice  sound  easy  and  natural. 

"  Oh,  did  she  ?  Yes, — yes,  of  course."  Lin- 
ton's  tone  sounded  so  distrait  that  Calvert 
glanced  at  him  quickly,  and  saw  that  he  seemed 
to  be  struggling  with  a  discomfort  equal  to  his 
own. 

With  an  inward  laugh  at  the  absurdity  of  what 
he  divined  to  be  the  cause,  Dodge  said,  depreca- 
tingly,  in  obedience  to  a  frank  impulse  :  "  Ber- 
tie— I — I  rather  think  I  Ve  guessed  who  '  the  all- 
powerful  drop'  is!  I  hope  you  don't  mind?" 

Linton's  face  brightened  visibly.  "  Mind  ?" 
he  said,  heartily.  "  No,  I  believe  I  'm  glad  of 
it,  Calvert.  You  won't  try  to  cut  me  out  now, 
you  see  ! "  he  added,  with  such  innocent  light- 
heartedness  that  Dodge  felt  a  sort  of  contempt 
for  his  friend's  blindness  creep  into  his  voice 
as  he  answered,  with  a  rather  dry  smile.  "  No, 
I  sha'n't  try  to  cut  you  out,  Bertram.  Good- 
by !  I  must  be  off,  for  there 's  a  world  of 
things  for  me  to  see  after,  before  three 
o'clock!" 


"S 


CHAPTER    XV 

"  WANTING   IS WHAT  ?  " 

"  Flower  o'  the  broom, 
Take  away  love  and  our  earth  is  a  tomb  !  " 

LOWLY,  slowly,  slowly  the  days  suc- 
ceeded each  other."  Bertram  Linton 
came  and  went  several  times.  The  ripening 
earth  rolled  on  to  its  mellow  harvest.  Eliza- 
beth lengthened  her  vacation  from  three  to 
six  weeks,  and  the  end  of  August  found  her 
still  within  sound  of  "  the  organ  surge  of  the 
sea."  All  her  old  ambition  for  work  seemed 
to  have  left  her ;  and  while  the  children  grew 
heavier  and  browner  with  each  succeeding 
week,  Elizabeth's  face  began  slowly  to  show 
more  plainly  the  pure  modelling  of  chin  and 
cheek  and  brow.  H  appy  little  orphans ! — hardly 

293 


294  As  Having  Nothing 

less  happy  in  that  their  poor  old  grandmother 
had  solved  the  problem  of  their  returning  to 
the  city  by  dying  in  the  middle  of  August. 
It  had  given  Elizabeth  a  sharp  pang  to  think 
of  the  old  woman's  lonely  end  in  that  heat-in- 
fested, swarming  tenement.  All  efforts  to  in- 
duce her  to  join  the  children  had  proved  of  no 
avail,  however, — Mrs.  Mulcahey  strenuously 
refusing  to  be  "  shmothered  in  the  counthry  " 
to  the  last ;  so  that  the  girl  felt  it  was  foolish 
to  blame  herself  in  the  least.  Dan  had  looked 
sober  for  nearly  a  whole  day,  when  "Lady" 
had  gently  told  him  the  news  ;  but  Biddy  paid 
not  even  a  half-hour's  tribute  of  regret  to  the 
"  Granny "  whose  image  had  already  grown 
faint  through  time  and  separation. 

At  the  end  of  August,  there  came  a  long 
letter  from  Joan,  in  which  she  spoke  of  having 
received  a  call  from  Calvert  Dodge,  and  of 
several  subsequent  meetings.  "  We  are  all 
delighted  with  him,"  she  wrote.  "  You  gave 
him  very  stinted  praise,  I  think,  Elizabeth. 
He  was  with  us  for  nearly  a  week  in  Wales, 


"  Wanting  is — What? "  295 

and  was  everything  that  is  considerate  and  in- 
teresting. I  think  he  is  one  of  the  rare  Sir 
Philip  Sydney  types,  with  a  dash  of  modern 
charm  and  culture  thrown  in.  We  made  some 
memorably  delightful  trips  to  those  unpro- 
nounceably  quaint  little  places,  which  I  think 
he  was  writing  up.  Then  we  came  on  to 
Scotland,  and  he  stayed  in  Cornwall.  We  may 
see  him  again  later,  as  he  intends  running  up 
to  Scotland  some  time  before  he  goes  back. 
But  as  we  have  decided  to  sail  on  the  tenth  of 
September,  I  fear  our  next  meeting  will  have 
to  wait  until  we  are  all  back  in  '  little  old  New 
York '  once  more.  Elizabeth — you  '  sweeter 
woman  ne  'er  drew  breath,' — I  am  so  impatient 
to  see  your  blessed  face  again  !  I  want  to 
have  a  long  whisper  in  your  ear.  Letters  are 
such  formal  ways  of  telling  things,  that  one's 
heart  somehow  shrinks  from  writing  of  what 
is  nearest  to  it.  But,  in  order  that  you  may 
not  ever  feel  that  you  are  not  always  my  first 
thought  in  everything  that  comes,  I  want  to 
commit  to  this  unsympathetic  paper  that  I  am 


296  As  Having  Nothing 

your  very  loving,  and  your  very  happy  little 
Joan." 

Elizabeth  thought  on  this  letter  for  a  day 
and  a  night.  The  next  morning,  she  said  to 
Mrs.  Wallace  :  "  Mother,  I  have  been  crimi- 
nally lazy  and  good  for  nothing !  But  I  know 
the  long  rest  has  done  us  both  good,  and  you 
have  stored  up  roses  enough  to  last  your  dear 
old  cheeks  all  winter.  It 's  high  time  to  get 
back  to  work  ;  and  last  night  I  dreamed  all  the 
sketches  in  my  studio  came  out  of  their  port- 
folios and  held  an  indignation  meeting  over 
my  lack  of  ambition.  It's  a  fearful  warning. 
I  have  forgotten  how  to  hold  a  paint-brush  or 
a  piece  of  charcoal.  But  I  must  waste  no  more 
time  in  going  home  and  learning  how  all  over 
again.  Mr.  Linton  wrote  me  last  week  about 
a  sea  story  they  want  me  to  illustrate  for 
Scrivener  s  so  much,  that  they  have  kept  it 
over  a  whole  month.  Think  of  it !  Can  you 
be  ready  to  go  to-morrow,  dear  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  can,  Betty,"  promptly  answered 
Mrs.  Wallace,  who  had  been  privately  mar- 


"  Wanting  is — What?  "  297 

veiling  at  her  energetic  daughter's  continued 
inaction.  "  But  I  am  afraid  you  have  n't  gained 
as  much  as  I,  love.  I  think  you  are  even 
looking  thinner,"  and  she  scanned  the  fair  face 
anxiously,  till  it  flushed  back  a  denial. 

"  Nonsense,  Sweetheart,  this  tan  hides  my 
color  !  I  'm  brown  as  a  berry,  you  see.  I  've 
been  bathing  too  much  perhaps,  and  enjoying 
myself  too  vigorously,  to  grow  very  fat.  The 
chicks  are  so  young  that  it 's  hard  for  an  old 
body  like  me  to  keep  up  with  them ! " 

"  Bless  their  hearts,  how  well  they  look ! " 
remarked  Martha,  contentedly.  She  had  been 
washing  dishes,  and  listening  shamelessly  ;  and 
now  came  out  on  the  porch  wiping  her 
wholesome,  red  arms  of  the  last  clinging  drops 
of  soap-suds.  "It  just  makes  me  feel  bad  to 
think  of  you  and  Mrs.  Wallace  leaving,  dearie  ! 
But  there,  I  can't  hope  to  hold  ye  always,  and 
you  've  promised  to  come  to  me  next  summer. 
I  will  say  as  the  thought  of  them  two  children 
sort  of  makes  up  for — all  sorts  of  things  to 
Thomas  and  me  ! " 


298  As  Having  Nothing 

And  so,  the  next  day,  there  was  a  tearful 
parting  at  the  little  shingled  cottage.  As 
they  drove  off,  Elizabeth's  last  view  of  the 
doorway  framed  a  lugubrious  picture  of  Danny, 
kneading  both  freckled  fists  into  a  face  which 
was  decorated  with  alternating  patches  of  tan, 
and  white  spots  from  which  the  skin  had  peeled 
away  ;  of  Biddy,  standing  in  open-faced,  frank, 
feminine  surrender  to  the  tears  which  ran  in 
rivulets  over  her  plump,  red  cheeks ;  and  of 
Martha,  vacillating  between  spasmodic  hand- 
kerchief wavings  to  her  departing  guests,  and 
the  dealing  of  comforting  pats  and  soothing 
words  to  her  two  woebegone  adoptions  ;  while 
Captain  Flett  swore  dimly  and  regretfully  in 
the  background. 

Then  began  a  season  of  breathless  occupa- 
tion. Elizabeth  flung  herself  back  into  her 
work  with  a  fire  and  concentration  that  was 
productive  of  some  of  the  best  she  had  ever 
done.  During  those  days,  since  their  return, 
she  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  Bertram  Linton, 
and  had  found  him  so  restlessly  moody  and 


"  Wanting  is — What? "          299 

capricious  upon  occasions,  so  curiously  unlike 
his  old,  imperturbable  self,  that  for  the  first 
time  a  tiny  suspicion  had  forced  itself  into  her 
mind,  only  to  be  out-thrust  again  with  indigna- 
tion. His  summer  of  close  application  had 
told  on  him,  that  was  all ; — and  yet,  in  regard 
to  his  work,  he  seemed  so  exactly  the  right 
man  in  the  right  place,  that  she  could  hardly 
reconcile  the  change  in  him  on  this  hypothesis. 
Mrs.  Wallace  added  innocently  to  her  secret 
perturbation  by  suddenly  remarking,  at  the 
end  of  an  evening  which  Bertram  had  spent  in 
their  little  apartment :  "  Mark  my  words,  Eliza- 
beth, that  young  man  is  in  love !  If  ever  I 
saw  the  symptoms,  he  has  them.  Believe  me, 
I  don't  like  to  be  premature,  but  you  know, 
Elizabeth,  you  never  will  open  your  eyes  to 
this  sort  of  thing ;  and  I  must  warn  you  that 
if  you  don't  want  to  have  trouble  with  him, 
you  really  ought  not  to  encourage  his  coming 
so  often." 

Of   course   Elizabeth   scoffed  at  this  open 
suggestion,  with  the  same  scorn  with  which 


300  As  Having  Nothing 

she  had  treated  her  own  half-formulated  sus- 
picion ;  but  her  manner  changed  imperceptibly, 
and  became  so  lucidly  friendly,  that  no  man 
living  could  have  mistaken  its  utter  indiffer- 
ence to  any  warmer  feeling.  Instead  of  dis- 
couraging him,  however,  it  seemed  to  have 
the  exactly  opposite  effect.  Bertram  only  re- 
doubled his  visits ;  and  when  Elizabeth  spoke 
of  going  to  meet  Joan,  whose  steamer  would 
be  due  in  a  few  days,  he  suggested  that  he 
would  come  and  go  with  her. 

So  it  happened  that  as  the  great  vessel 
swung  slowly  and  ponderously  into  her  moor- 
ings, at  the  uncomfortable  hour  of  seven 
o'clock  A.M.,  the  first  things  that  a  very 
Parisian  little  light-haired  maiden  in  the  bow 
spied  with  her  eager  field-glass,  were  the  two 
figures  of  Elizabeth  Wallace  and  Bertram 
Linton,  standing  together  on  the  extreme 
end  of  the  wharf,  and  waving  frantically ; 
while  their  roving  eyes  wandered  searchingly 
over  the  conglomerate  mass  of  returning  voy- 
agers. 


"  Wanting  is— What?  "          301 

Joan  stood  a-tiptoe  on  one  of  the  ventila- 
tors, and  catching  up  her  blue  parasol,  she 
opened  and  shook  it  wildly.  Then  having  at- 
tracted their  attention  at  last,  beamed  brightly 
down  at  them,  through  a  mist  of  happy,  home- 
coming tears,  which  enveloped  her  friends  in 
a  rainbow  haze,  and  made  the  solid  earth  reel 
as  giddily  as  the  erstwhile  struggling  ship. 
She  came  down  the  gangplank  one  bewilder- 
ing mixture  of  smiles  and  blushes  ;  and  in  her 
blue  eyes  Elizabeth  fancied  she  could  clearly 
detect  a  tender  shine,  which  was  the  one  thing 
needed  to  make  them  perfectly  beautiful. 

Then  came  the  bother  and  delay  of  the  cus- 
toms, which  lasted  so  long  that  Elizabeth  was 
forced  to  tear  herself  away  to  an  unfinished 
illustration  which  was  due  that  very  afternoon. 
She  accordingly  departed,  leaving  Bertram 
doing  his  best  to  hurry  matters,  and  make  the 
period  of  waiting  agreeable  to  Mrs.  Whetmore, 
who  exclaimed  as  impatiently  every  time,  over 
the  inexcusable  slowness  of  the  officials,  as  if 
she  had  not  experienced  the  same  inconven- 


302  As  Having  Nothing 

ience,  annually,  for  more  years  than  she  might 
care  to  number. 

All  that  day  Elizabeth  worked  feverishly ; 
trying  to  be  only  glad  of  dear  little  Joan's 
wonderful,  happy  eyes.  With  her  usual  anxi- 
ety to  know  the  worst  and  have  it  over  with, 
she  longed  ardently  to  fly  at  once  to  Joan  and 
hear  whatever  she  had  to  tell.  This  feeling 
was  warred  upon  by  another — the  wish  of  a 
wounded,  live  thing  to  creep  away  and  suffer 
alone,  hiding  its  hurt  from  all  eyes ;  above  all, 
from  those  shining  eyes,  which  Elizabeth  felt 
had  caught  their  reflection  from  two  earnest 
gray  ones,  whose  every  expression  was  known 
to  her  own  heart  with  a  painful  intimacy.  In 
the  struggle  between  these  two  selves,  two 
days  went  by,  with  the  self-alleged  excuse  of 
models  and  pressing  work,  which  indeed  occu- 
pied her  time  completely. 

But  Joan  did  not  intend  to  let  work,  or  any- 
thing else,  stand  in  the  way  of  her  long-prom- 
ised talk  with  this,  her  very  best  friend.  On 
the  morning  of  the  third  day,  just  as  Elizabeth 


"  Wanting  is— What  ?  "  303 

was  dismissing  her  model  at  the  noon  hour, 
she  appeared  at  the  studio-door  dimpling 
into  smiles  of  rosy  pleasure. 

"  You  fraud /  "  she  said  ;  "  I  waited  all  day 
yesterday,  and  all  this  livelong  morning,  afraid 
I  'd  miss  you  by  coming  down  here.  Are  n't 
you  ashamed  of  yourself  for  not  coming  to  see 
me — after  all  these  months  I  Ve  been  away, 
Beth?" 

"  I  could  n't,  Joan — I  Ve  been  so  busy — there 
were  models,  you  see — "  began  Elizabeth, 
lamely,  and  thoroughly  ashamed  of  herself 
that  she  could  not  feel  the  unselfish  gladness 
she  craved  over  Joan's  suspected  and  very 
evident  happiness. 

"  Never  mind.  I  '11  forgive  you,  lambkin. 
Let  me  have  a  good  hug,  my  best-beloved 
friend.  There  !  I  did  n't  half  get  at  you  on 
the  wharf  the  other  day.  It 's  so  fine  to  know 
you  are  busy  with  this  fascinating  work.  Mr. 
Dodge  told  us  how  wonderfully  you  have  been 
getting  along.  He  admires  your  work  so 
much — and  Bertram  Linton  too." 


304  As  Having  Nothing 

The  bright  flag  of  color  in  her  face  as  she 
spoke,  was  a  telltale  signal  to  Elizabeth,  on 
the  lookout  for  such  revelations.  "  Let  me 
see  what  you  're  doing,"  she  added,  turning  to 
the  easel  with  the  quick,  restless  motion  of  a 
bird  ;  and  exclaiming  over  the  picture  upon  it 
with  an  eagerness  that  very  plainly  masked  a 
burning  desire  to  talk  of  something  else,  and 
a  hesitancy  about  beginning.  Elizabeth  felt 
her  heart  swell  with  the  old  feeling  of  tender 
love  and  admiration  for  the  exquisite  little 
thing,  so  full  of  radiant  life  and  affection. 
She  reached  an  arm  suddenly  about  Joan  and 
drew  her  down  on  the  old  studio  couch  beside 
her,  saying,  "You  can  look  at  all  those  later. 
They  will  wait.  But  I  can't,  dear,  to  hear 
what  you  have  to  tell  me.  Something  happy, 
I  know  from  your  letter — what  is  it,  Joan  ?" 

The  girl  wrenched  herself  free,  and  sat  erect 
with  flushed  cheeks,  and  a  smile  just  quivering 
on  her  lips  ;  while  the  light  of  hidden  laughter 
lurked  in  her  blue  eyes.  "  Never  mind  about 
that ! "  she  said  quickly,  "  First,  I  must  tell 


"  Wanting  is — What?  "          305 

you  some  news.  Mr.  Linton  told  me  of  a 
brand-new  engagement  the  other  day — guess 
whose  ?  " 

Elizabeth  shook  her  head  smiling.  "  I  can't 
imagine  ;  I  'm  a  regular  hermit,  nowadays." 

"  His  own  ! "  Joan  paused  gleefully,  to  watch 
the  unmixed  and  unaffected  amazement  in 
Elizabeth's  face. 

"  Mr.  Linton  engaged  !     To  whom  ?  " 

"  To  me  !  "  And  with  an  inarticulate  sound, 
halfway  between  a  sob  and  a  laugh,  the  ex- 
cited girl  flung  herself  back  into  her  friend's 
arms,  and  buried  her  face  on  Elizabeth's 
shoulder. 

So  held,  she  could  not  see  the  changes  that 
flashed,  one  after  the  other,  over  Elizabeth's 
face. 

"Joan!"  she  said  sharply,  "what  did  you 
say  ?  Did  I  hear  straight  ?  Tell  me,  are  you 
engaged  to  Bertram  Linton  ? "  And  in  her 
eagerness  she  fairly  shook  the  little  figure  in 
her  arms,  vigorously. 

Joan  sat  up  again  with  dancing  eyes.     "  It 's 


306  As  Having  Nothing 

the  truth,  dear ;  and  oh,  Beth,  I  'm  such  a 
happy  girl ! " 

Elizabeth  took  the  tone  of  an  inquisitor : 
"  How  long  has  this  been  going  on  ? "  she  de- 
manded. 

"  Oh,  ever  so  long,"  admitted  Joan,  with  a 
delicious  flush, — "ages!  You  see,  he — cared 
long,  long  ago  ;  and  I — well,  to  tell  the  truth, 
Elizabeth,  I  have  cared  longer  than  I  really 
knew,  and  far  longer  than  Bertram  will  ever 
suspect ! " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  long '  ?  Did  you 
'  care '  when  we  had  our  talk  together  that  day, 
after  the  posing,  you  little  hypocrite  ! " 

"  Oh,  Beth,  dear,  I  'm  afraid  I  did,  even  then. 
But  you  were  so  glorious  that  afternoon,  I 
didn't  dare  to  lay  bare  my  poor  little  heart  that 
was  so  racked  with  questionings  ;  I  felt  it  would 
seem  pitifully  small  and  unworthy  the  name  of 
love  to  a  girl  with  an  ideal  like  yours." 

"  Oh,  hush,  Joan  !     Don't  talk  like  that ! " 

"  But  I  have  been  growing  surer  and  surer 
every  minute,  Beth.  And  now,  I  'm  proud  to 


"  Wanting  is — What  ?  "          307 

tell  it  to  all  the  world !  Bertram  begged  me 
so  hard  to  be  engaged  before  I  left  home  ;  but 
I  would  n't — not  till  I  was  perfectly  certain 
that  I  had  something  great  and  fine  enough  to 
give  him  in  exchange  for  his  big,  loving  heart ; 
till  I  was  sure,  without  the  shadow  of  a  doubt, 
that  I  was  worthy  of  the  happiness  that  was 
tempting  me  so." 

Elizabeth  held  her  close  for  all  answer,  and 
she  went  on,  earnestly :  "Is  n't  it  strange, 
Elizabeth  ?  We  both  feel  the  same  way  about 
it.  In  spite  of  all  I  can  do,  he  just  keeps  on 
saying  he  will  never  deserve  it.  And  do  you 
know,  that  is  what  started  him  to  working  so 
desperately  this  summer.  He  says  he  felt  he 
must  do,  must  be,  something  ;  and  that  he  had 
the  most  unconquerable  wish  to  work  for  me 
1  with  the  sweat  of  his  brow '  like  any  day- 
laborer  !  We  have  the  most  delicious  plan, 
Beth, — to  live  entirely  on  Bertram's  salary,  on 
what  he  earns,  like  any  other  ordinary  begin- 
ners, and  spend  our  money  for  all  sorts  of 
interesting,  outside  things  ;  and  try  to  do  all 


308  As  Having  Nothing 

the  good  in  the  world  we  can  with  it.  Don 't 
you  think  it  will  be  a  beautiful  life,  Beth  ? " 

"  Indeed  I  do  !  Dear  little  Joan,  I  think 
you  have  solved  your  old  problem  of  economics 
perfectly  ! " 

"What  is  that?  Oh — the  rich-and-poor 
theory,  you  mean  !  Well,  it 's  still  my  pet 
theory.  How  absurd  it  is  that  I  should  be 
upsetting  it  in  this  fashion  !  But — circum- 
stances alter  cases,  you  know.  When  you 
wrote  me  about  his  going  to  work  that  way,  I 
felt  that  I  loved  him  so  much,  I  could  hardly 
wait  to  get  home  and  tell  him.  Poor  boy ! 
I  'm  afraid  he  's  been  very  miserable.  But 
then,  I  was  too  ! " 

"  But  surely,  surely,  you  don't  mean  to  say 
you  did  n't  hear  from  him  all  summer  ?  Didn't 
even  let  him  write  to  you  ?  " 

"  Not  a  line  !  It  had  to  be  a  perfect  test, 
you  see.  It  was  awfully  hard,  though.  But 
we  Ve  stood  it,  and  now  I  'm  going  to  make  it 
up  to  him  for  the  rest  of  my  life  ! " 

"Well,  Joan,  you  are  the  most  sensible  little 


' '  Wanting  is — What  ?  "          309 

woman  that  ever  lived  !  I  always  said  so. 
But  how  could  you  do  it  ?  That  explains, 
then  !—  And  Elizabeth  made  a  little  face  of 
comical  ruefulness. 

"  Explains  what  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  Only  the  way  he  behaved, — 
like  the  most  restless  and  uneasy  and  in-love 
mortal  that  ever  lived." 

Joan  laughed,  well  pleased.  "He  says  he 
could  never  have  borne  it,  but  for  you  ;  and 
that  he  thinks  you  must  have  loathed  the  sight 
of  him  just  at  the  last,  when  he  hung  about  in 
the  hope  of  hearing  when  I  was  coming  home. 
You  were  his  only  means  of  finding  out,  and 
he  says  he  was  bound  to  be  the  first  thing  I 
saw  when  I  landed — just  to  remind  me  at  once 
of  his  existence  !  As  if  I  had  thought  of  any- 
thing else  for  a  single  minute,  all  summer 
long  ! "  she  confessed,  with  a  charming  candor. 

Elizabeth  caught  her  hands  lovingly.  "  Joan, 
he  is  all  that  is  fine  !  I  like  him  so  much,  and 
I  am  sure  you  two  will  be  as  happy  as  you 
deserve  to  be." 


310  As  Having  Nothing 

"  Everyone  likes  him,"  purred  Joan,  with  a 
dignified  ownership  that  sat  quaintly,  yet  very 
naturally,  on  her  small  self.  "  Your  friend, 
Mr.  Dodge,  too,  is  devoted  to  him,  Elizabeth. 
It  warmed  my  heart  to  hear  how  he  talked 
about  him.  Mother  and  I  enjoyed  Mr.  Dodge 
so.  I  must  know  him  better.  Bertram  says 
he  is  very  knowable ;  but  I  can  hardly  believe 
it,  he  seems  so  grave  and  reserved  most  of  the 
time." 

Elizabeth  thought  swiftly  of  Calvert  Dodge. 
That  was  such  an  odd  way  to  describe  the 
earnestness  and  enthusiasm  she  knew  the  man 
to  be  brimful  of — but  for  only  a  moment. 
Later,  those  other  thoughts  clamoring  at  the 
back  of  her  brain  would  be  let  in.  This  was 
Joan's  hour. 

"  Well,  I  am  most  successfully  surprised  ! " 
she  admitted  frankly.  "  I  never  once  dreamed 
of  such  a  thing  ;  and  from  your  letters,  I  had 
even  fancied  you  were  growing  interested  in 
this  same  author  of  the  '  Wisp.'  It  would  have 
made  a  pretty  story  ! "  she  added,  trying  so  hard 


"Wanting  is — What?"          311 

to  speak  carelessly,  that  she  completely  de- 
ceived Joan,  who  had  been  having  suspicions 
on  her  own  account,  but  had  been  far  too 
sensible  to  divulge  them,  except  to  Bertram, 
who  had  encouraged  them  considerably. 

"Beth!"  she  said  reprovingly,  "  I  wrote  all 
that  nonsense  for  fun,  thinking  you  would  take 
it  in  the  same  spirit,  and — perhaps  too — as  a 
sort  of  wee,  extra  blind  to  the  real  state  of 
things.  You  surely  did  n't  suppose  I  would  be 
goose  enough  to  fall  in  love  with,  or  even  get 
really  interested  in,  a  man  I  had  never  seen  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  was  absurd,"  agreed  Elizabeth, 
laughing,  and  with  a  vivid  realization  of  how 
absurd  it  had  actually  been.  As  she  had  said 
before,  Joan  always  brought  up  Elizabeth's 
practical  side,  and  made  her  see  things  through 
the  clear  glasses  of  her  own  uncommon  sense. 

The  more  she  thought  of  it  all  in  the  light 
of  this  great  news,  and  the  more  she  reviewed 
the  facts  of  the  past  summer,  the  more  con- 
vinced she  grew  that  she  had  been  weaving 
them  all  into  a  tangled  web  of  fancies  that 


312  As  Having  Nothing 

was  as  unreal  as  it  was  ridiculous.  Supposi- 
tions that  had  seemed  natural  to  her  before,  in 
this  new  light  showed  themselves  to  be  dis- 
torted and  exaggerated.  Little  details  which 
had  seemed  so  fraught  with  meaning  lost  their 
former  significance,  and  began  to  take  on  a 
new  one  which,  in  spite  of  herself,  deluged 
Elizabeth's  heart  with  a  warmth  that  crept  up- 
ward and  colored  her  face  till  it  glowed  anew 
with  the  old  rich  brilliancy.  To  herself,  all 
alone,  she  admitted  the  security  that  before 
long  he  would  return,  and  a  hope  that  the  old 
and  inexpressibly  dear  companionship  would 
be  renewed. 

But  as  weeks  succeeded  weeks,  and  they 
heard  nothing  of  the  absent  traveller,  the  old 
demons  of  doubt  and  untrustworthy  imagi- 
nation went  to  work  again ;  and  Elizabeth 
returned  slowly  to  her  former  theory.  It  was 
as  she  had  fancied,  although  people  like  Joan, 
happy,  sensible  people,  could  never  understand 
such  a  thing.  She  herself  could  appreciate 
just  how  such  a  curious  coincidence  would 


' '  Wanting  is — What  ?  "          3 1 3 

take  tyrannous  hold  of  a  man  like  Calvert 
Dodge  ;  and  how,  caring  for  his  ideal  as  he 
must,  having  once  seen  Joan,  as  he  thought 
perfectly  free  and  heart-whole,  and  recognized 
how  entirely  she  fulfilled  it,  he  could  not  fail 
to  transfer  his  loyalty  from  the  shadow  to  the 
substance.  By  dint  of  such  clever  logic,  she 
gradually  pushed  close  the  gates  of  hope,  which 
she  had  allowed  to  stand  ajar  for  a  short  time. 
She  knew,  moreover,  that  Bertram  Linton 
had  written,  telling  his  friend  the  news  ;  for  he 
had  spoken  openly  of  having  received  no 
answer  to  the  letter  in  which  he  had  asked 
Calvert  to  be  best  man  upon  a  great  occasion 
which  was  to  come  off  some  time  in  December. 
Elizabeth's  ready  imagination  had  an  explana- 
tion for  this  too,  and  suggested  that  the  con- 
tinued delay  abroad  was  occasioned  by  the 
tidings  which  had  reached  him ;  while  she 
fancied  vividly  the  way  that  he  would  wrestle 
with  himself  over  the  acceptance  or  refusal  to 
be  present  at  a  moment  which  would  crystal- 
lize his  disappointment  into  irrevocableness. 


3H  As  Having  Nothing 

Fortunately  for  Elizabeth,  her  work  was 
absorbing  and  unremitting  during  the  slowly 
wintering  autumn  days.  It  was  only  at  times 
that  the  stone  in  her  breast  weighed  with  al- 
most unbearable  heaviness,  and  the  strain  at 
her  throat  made  her  fear  a  weak  surrender  to 
lonely  tears. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

"  AS    HAVING    NOTHING, YET    POSSESSING   ALL 

THINGS  " 

"  Time  would  tell 

And  the  end  declare  what  man  for  you, 
What  woman  for  me  was  the  choice  of  God." 

IT  was  just  five  o'clock  on  a  foggy  day,  well 
towards  the  end  of  November.  The  li- 
brary of  the  Oxford  and  Cambridge  Club  on 
Pall  Mall  was  completely  deserted,  except  for 
an  intent  figure  bending  over  a  desk  in  one 
corner.  At  his  elbow  lay  several  sheets  of 
paper,  covered  with  quick,  close,  business- 
looking  writing.  His  attitude  was  so  concen- 
trated, and  the  air  of  absorption  so  complete, 
as  his  pen  travelled  swiftly  from  side  to  side 
over  the  page  now  under  his  hand,  that  one 

315 


316  As  Having  Nothing 

would  have  thought  him  deep  in  an  arduous 
undertaking  that  would  not  be  finished  for 
hours.  It  would  have  seemed  hopeless  to 
expect  a  speedy  ending  from  such  rapt 
absorption. 

But  suddenly  his  pen  reached  the  end  of  the 
page,  and  wrote  the  name  Calvert  Dodge  at 
the  bottom,  with  the  same  unhesitating  decision. 
And  in  another  minute,  the  loose  sheets  were 
gathered  together,  enclosed  in  an  official  en- 
velope and  addressed  to  the  Times  Building, 
New  York  City,  U.  S.  A.  Then,  on  the  in- 
stant, the  businesslike  mood  was  vanished, 
shed  like  a  garment,  and  a  lazy  look  filled  his 
eyes  as  he  tipped  his  chair  back  and  whistled 
thoughtfully.  Anyone  regarding  him  closely 
would  have  been  struck  with  certain  weary  lit- 
tle lines  about  those  gray  eyes,  which  seemed 
to  be  unnatural  to  the  energetic  face. 

"  Pretty  good  of  old  Hay  wood  to  give  me  the 
run  of  the  Club  this  way,"  he  ejaculated  appre- 
ciatively, letting  his  gaze  wander  over  the  com- 
fortable, softly  lighted  room.  Then,  consulting 


"Yet  Possessing  all  Things"     317 

his  watch,  he  whistled  again,  this  time  in  sur- 
prise at  the  lateness  of  the  hour. 

Twenty  minutes  afterward  he  entered  the 
office  of  the  Langham,  and  stopped  for  his 
mail  on  the  way  up-stairs  to  his  room.  There 
were  several  business  communications  for- 
warded by  his  banker,  and  a  package  of  New 
York  papers.  As  he  ran  his  eyes  over  them 
with  mechanical  recognition,  he  came  across 
an  envelope  whose  face  was  so  crossed  and  re- 
crossed  and  criss  crossed  with  different  ad- 
dresses, that  the  original  one  was  almost 
illegible.  The  whole  thing  was  interesting  as 
it  contained  the  names  of  every  place  he  had 
been  to  since  the  first  of  October,  and  he  puz- 
zled them  out  amusedly  before  he  opened  it. 
Then  he  drew  out  the  enclosure,  and  started 
sharply  as  he  recognized  the  writing  to  be  Ber- 
tram Linton's. 

Quick  on  the  recognition  came  a  knife-like 
thrust  at  thought  of  the  news  which  this  letter 
from  uncommunicative  Bertram  might  contain, 
and  he  braced  himself  consciously  for  its  peru- 


318  As  Having  Nothing 

sal ;  while  around  his  eyes  became  more  visible 
the  tired  lines, — which  seemed  to  prove  that 
the  old  thoughts  which  had  imprinted  them 
were  again  uppermost  in  his  mind.  This  is 
what  he  read : 

"  DEAR  CALVERT  : — You  guessed  my  secret 
last  summer,  and  I  'm  not  in  the  least  ashamed 
of  being  so  patently  in  love  that  I  advertised  it 
on  my  countenance.  I  could  n't  talk  about  it 
then,  it  was  all  too  uncertain,  but  now  I  am  free 
to  tell  you  that  the  summer  of  my  discon- 
tent has  ended  gloriously,  and  that  I  am  en- 
gaged to  the  dearest,  the  best,  and  finest  little 
woman  in  the  world !  You  wished  me  luck, 
long  ago,  so  I  am  sure  of  your  hearty  pleasure 
and  sympathy  over  my  happiness.  It  makes 
the  world  over  for  a  man,  Calvert.  Great 
Heavens  !  What  have  I  done  that  I  should 
be  so  blessed  ?  How  can  I  ever  hope  to  be 
worthy  ?  But  you  see  I  cannot  write  sanely 
about  it  yet,  so  I  will  tell  you,  without  further 
ado,  that  the  object  of  this  letter  is  to  secure 
your  services  as  best  man  for  an  uncertain  day 


"  Yet  Possessing  all  Things  "     319 

in  the  certain  month  of  December.  We  are 
both  determined  to  have  you,  old  man.  She 
likes  you  so  much  already  and  longs  to  know 
you  better.  To  tell  the  whole  truth,  Calvert, 
caring  for  you  and  admiring  you  as  I  do,  I 
fairly  shook  in  my  shoes  when  I  knew  you  two 
were  going  to  meet.  It  seemed  impossible 
that  she  could  be  guilty  of  the  bad  taste  to 
prefer  me  after  that !  I  can  only  fall  back  for 
all  explanation  on  the  old  saw,  '  First  come, 
first  served  ! '  It  must  be  pretty  near  time  for 
you  to  be  coming  back,  so  I  shall  expect  an 
answer  in  propria  persona  before  long.  I 
know  you  are  too  busy  driving  a  pen  to  have 
time  for  letter-writing.  With  warmest  regards 
and  best  wishes  from  us  both,  I  am  ever, 
"  Your  faithful  old  friend, 

"  BERTRAM  LINTON. 

"  P.  S. — The  studio  on  57th  Street  is  unusu- 
ally attractive  this  fall,  and  Miss  Wallace's 
work  grows  better  every  day.  Great  things  are 
predicted  for  her.  I  wonder — but  no,  it 's  none 
of  my  business,  old  man  !  B.  L." 


320  As  Having  Nothing 

The  blow  had  fallen  at  last,  then  !  The 
note  dropped  from  the  man's  hand,  and  his 
eyes  gazed  unseeingly  ahead  for  a  long  time. 
He  was  going  over  again,  for  the  hundredth 
time,  the  old  battle  of  rebellion.  How  could 
it  be,  how  could  it  be,  that  his  whole  nature 
had  recognized  and  clamored  for  a  heart  that 
was  given  to  another!  How  could  it  be  that 
the  certainty  he  felt  with  every  faculty  he  pos- 
sessed, that  Elizabeth  Wallace  was  the  one 
woman  in  the  world  who  could  satisfy  him, 
was  not  God-given,  incontrovertible  ! 

Hitherto,  the  hard  things  of  Calvert's  life — 
the  breaking  up  of  his  beautiful  old  Virginia 
home  at  an  age  when  most  boys  are  entirely 
care-free ;  the  struggle  for  the  college  educa- 
tion which  was  considered  by  his  people  one  of 
the  bare  necessaries  of  life ;  the  deep  sorrow 
over  the  death  of  his  parents,  which  occurred 
during  his  senior  year,  and  the  subsequent 
trials  and  hardships  of  an  up-hill  literary  career, 
added  to  a  debt  incubus  honorably  shouldered 
after  his  father's  death — had  been  to  this  man, 


"  Yet  Possessing  all  Things  "     321 

in  whose  Southern  nature  there  was  mingled 
a  curiously  alien,  Puritan  strain,  but  so  many 
opportunities  for  exercising  and  strengthening 
his  moral  fibre.  What  he  had  endured,  al- 
though it  had  caused  acute  suffering  and  sever- 
ities, he  had  borne  nobly  and  unquestioningly. 
It  had  been  even  with  a  sort  of  austere  exal- 
tation that  he  had  kissed  the  rod  and  hailed 
it  as  a  staff  with  whose  aid  he  could  mount 
from  strength  to  strength. 

Only  from  this  last  cup  which  he  had 
thought  held  to  his  lips  had  he  shrunk  with 
bitter  insurrection.  His  mind  harked  back 
grimly  and  paced  it  all  over  again.  God  help 
him !  He  knew  now  that  his  scruples  had 
been  all  on  Bertram's  account — Bertram,  whom 
he  felt  it  only  honorable  to  leave  with  a  fair 
field — and  that  deep  down  in  his  heart  of 
hearts  had  lain  waiting  a  something  which 
seemed  to  whisper  that  there  was  a  chance 
that  Bertram  Linton,  rich  and  clever  and  at- 
tractive as  he  was,  would  have  his  opportunity 
and  lose  it,  and  after  that !  —  It  had  been  cow- 


322  As  Having  Nothing 

ardice  on  his  part  to  stay  away,  shameful  fear 
that  within  reach  of  her  he  could  not  trust 
himself  to  stand  passively  by  and  watch  an- 
other man  try  to  win  her,  while  he  was  bound 
by  nothing  but  a  flimsy  code  of  honor.  For 
this  he  had  lengthened  his  stay  abroad  and  ac- 
cepted an  offer  to  remain  and  do  further  work 
for  his  paper  on  the  continent,  in  connection 
with  the  Grecian  troubles,  saying  fiercely  to 
himself,  that  when  the  time  of  his  second  con- 
tract was  up  he  would  go  home,  and  if  Linton 
had  not  then  made  definite  headway,  he  would 
consider  that  he  had  allowed  him  all  the  op- 
portunity that  the  strictest  honor  demanded, 
and  let  come  what  would,  he  would  try  his  own 
luck. 

He  recalled  his  late  wanderings,  and  smiled 
a  bitter  little  smile  as  he  realized  that  the 
things  which  stood  out  most  vividly  in  his  mul- 
tiform impressions  of  sight-seeing  were,  first, 
the  little  French  town  in  Brittany  which  he 
had  hunted  through  for  the  originals  to  the 
sketches  in  a  certain  Brittany  portfolio  as 


"Yet  Possessing  all  Things"     323 

zealously  as  a  devout  Catholic  looks  for  his- 
toric shrines ;  and,  later,  those  parts  of  Paris 
which  she  had  made  real  and  populated  for 
him,  in  their  many  talks.  A  heterogeneous 
collection  these — St.  Cloud,  and  the  Madeleine, 
the  Cluny,  and  certain  picked  galleries  in  the 
endless  Louvre ;  one  corner  of  the  Luxem- 
bourg, and,  dearest  of  all,  the  dingy  Academic 
Mont  Parnasse  and  the  Square  du  Froissart,— 
inside  of  whose  gated  courtyard  he  had  lin- 
gered, looking  up  at  the  fifth-floor  windows  of 
Numero  Dix,  until  the  concierge  had  noticed 
him  and  demanded  rather  uncivilly  his  business 
there. 

Calvert  smiled  again  as  he  remembered  how 
accommodating  and  urbane  this  same  con- 
cierge had  grown  upon  his  asking  if  there  were 
apartments  to  let  in  Numero  Dix.  "  Mais  oui, 
Monsieur,  assurement !  II  y  en  a  deux,  le 
cinquieme  etage  et  le  quatrieme  aussi,  a  louer. 
Mais  tres  joli !  tous  qui  est  beau  ! " — and  his 
air  of  suave  affability  when  Calvert  had  exam- 
ined minutely  and  with  obvious  approval  the 


324  As  Having  Nothing 

microscopic  apartment  on  the  fifth  floor  where 
Elizabeth  had  lived  and  studied  and  been 
happy  or  miserable  for  six  long  months  !  He 
had  not  been  able  to  repress  a  question  about 
previous  tenants,  and  the  garrulous  concierge 
had  assured  him,  with  gesturing  hands  and 
shoulders,  how  satisfied,  one  might  say  how  en- 
chanted, the  last  ones  had  been.  "  An  Ameri- 
can Madame,  one  of  monsieur's  charming  com- 
patriots, with  her  daughter — ah,  Monsieur,  her 
daughter  so  amiable  and  so  beautiful !  who 
studied  the  art,  all  near  ! "  Poor  man  !  he  had 
laid  himself  out  in  the  certainty  of  having  en- 
trapped another  American  tenant,  whose  value 
he  had  afterward  gauged  with  reference  to  the 
tip  which  Calvert  had  bestowed  upon  him  at 
parting,  and  which  he  hoped  to  see  frequently 
duplicated  in  a  golden  future. 

The  self-scorning  little  smile  still  lingered 
on  Calvert's  lips,  as  he  recollected  how  his 
unbridled  fancy  had  placed  her  beside  him  in 
those  tiny  rooms ;  and  how  he  had  allowed 
himself  to  indulge  the  reckless  dream  that, 


"  Yet  Possessing  all  Things"     325 

the  gracious  years  having  performed  the  all- 
impossible  miracle,  they  two  might  be  together 
for  another  happy  winter  of  work  and  play  in 
the  selfsame  little  apartment  au  cinquilme  ! 

Mad,  mad  dreams ! — But  oh,  how  they  were 
sweet !  The  familiar  lines  came  back  to  him, 

"  I  shall  be  satisfied, 
If  only  the  dreams  abide." 

And  now  he  was  not  only  bereft  of  the  actual, 
but  must  also  strip  himself  ruthlessly  of  the 
dreams  which  had  been  his  only  solace.  Well, 
the  limit  he  had  set  himself  was  up  !  The 
work  was  done.  He  had  despatched  the  last 
instalment  that  very  day.  Yes — he  would  go 
back  and  be  best  man  for  Bertram  Linton. 
It  was  peculiarly  fitting  that  he  inflict  this 
punishment  on  himself  for  his  rash  audacity 
in  daring  to  so  dream. 

He  picked  up  the  letter  and  read  it  once 
more.  This  time,  something  strange  in  the 
postscript  struck  him  ;  and  he  quickly  re-read 
the  whole  letter  anxiously  and  attentively. 
But  no,  it  was  too  utterly,  too  wildly  improba- 


326  As  Having  Nothing 

ble  !  He  would  not  allow  a  doubt  to  enter  his 
mind.  Upon  which  very  sensible  determina- 
tion, he  proceeded  to  erect  a  towering  but 
inverted  pyramid  of  doubt,  having  for  apex 
that  insecure,  that  infinitesimal  evidence — 
till  his  very  soul  was  sick  with  a  torturing 
uncertainty. 

Ten  days  later,  about  half-past  three  in  the 
afternoon,  a  newly  arrived  traveller  landed  in 
New  York  City,  and  made  his  way  straight 
to  the  office  of  one  Bertram  Linton.  At  his 
entrance,  Bertram  sprang  to  his  outstretched 
hand  with  a  cry  of  very  real  surprise  and 
delight,  and  stood  wringing  it  with  an  appar- 
ently endless  heartiness,  while  he  deluged  the 
arrival  with  eager  questions  in  a  breezy  suc- 
cession, very  unlike  his  old,  deliberate  self. 

"How  are  you,  old  man?  Where 'd  you 
drop  from  ?  When  did  you  arrive  ?  Where  've 
you  been  ?  I  'm  awfully  glad  to  see  you, 
Dodge.  But  you  look  a  bit  seedy.  Had  a 
bad  crossing  ?  And  did  you  get  my  letter  ?  " 


"  Yet  Possessing  all  Things  "     327 

"  Yes,  I  got  it — after  a  while,"  returned 
Calvert,  with  a  slow  nervousness.  "  It  had 
followed  me  pretty  nearly  all  over  Europe 
first,  though.  See  here,  Bertie,  you  're  a  typi- 
cal blind  man !  I  wonder  if  you  know  you 
wrote  a  whole,  long  letter,  asking  to  be  con- 
gratulated, and  never  mentioned  your  fian- 
cee" s  name  ?" 

Bertram  opened  wide  his  honest  blue  eyes. 
"No,  by  Jove!  Did  I,  though?  That  was 
just  like  my  idiocy.  But,  I  say,  it  made  no 
difference — you  knew  whom  I  meant  well 
enough." 

"  Well,  of  course  I  imagined.  It  could 
only  have  been  one  person ! "  said  Cal- 
vert, growing  a  little  pale  beneath  the  ocean 
tan. 

"  I  should  say  so !  Ever  since  I  laid  my 
eyes  on  her,  Joan  Whetmore  has  been  the 
only  woman  in  the  world  to  me,  bless  her ! " 

Calvert  went  still  paler,  and  caught  his 
friend's  arm  in  a  close  grip.  "Joan  Whet- 
more!"  he  said  unsteadily;  "for  Heaven's 


328  As  Having  Nothing 

sake,  man,  tell  me  at  once,  is  it  Miss  Whet- 
more  to  whom  you  are  engaged  ? " 

"  Why,  of  course  it 's  Miss  Whetmore,"  re- 
peated Linton,  astounded  at  this  vehemence. 
"  Who  else  on  earth—  -  ?  " 

"  I — I  thought  it  was  Miss  Wallace,"  said 
Calvert  tensely.  "  Never  mind  the  hundred 
and  one  reasons  now.  Forgive  me,  Bertram 
old  fellow,  but  this  has  meant  everything  in 
the  world  to  me.  I  've  been " — he  laughed 
excitedly — "  holding  off  on  your  account  for 
the  past  six  months,  more  or  less ;  and  I  can't 
stand  it  a  minute  longer.  I  'm  going  to  the 
studio  to  see  her  as  fast  as  a  cab  can  take  me 
there."  He  held  out  his  hand  with  a  wistful 
smile,  in  which  hope  and  doubt  were  equally 
blended.  "  Wish  me  luck,  old  man  ! " 

Linton  wrung  it  strongly,  his  head  in  a  maze 
of  mystified  appreciation  of  what  the  man 
before  him  had  been  through.  "  That  I  do," 
he  said  forcibly. 

The  drive  which  followed  was  one  which 
Calvert  Dodge  will  never  forget ;  now  terrify- 


"Yet  Possessing  all  Things"     329 

ingly  swift — as  his  traitorous  doubts,  his  sense 
of  unworthiness,  obtained  the  upper  hand ; 
now  torturingly  slow — as  his  suddenly  emanci- 
pated heart,  his  eager  intuition,  downed  his 
more  cowardly,  more  timorous  self. 

Twenty  minutes  later  the  drive  was  over — 
so  soon  / — at  last !  And  Calvert  stood,  as  on 
that  first  memorable  occasion,  outside  of  an 
oaken  door,  his  heart  knocking  so  loudly 
against  his  side  that  it  seemed  superfluous  to 
announce  his  coming  by  further  means. 

On  the  other  side  of  that  uncommunicative 
door,  in  the  early  gathering  gloaming,  before  a 
little  open  fire  of  glowing  coals,  sat  a  dusk- 
haired,  dusk-eyed  girl.  The  firelight  touched 
her  face  and  hands  with  a  warmth  they  had 
lacked  of  late,  and  on  the  top  of  her  head  the 
cool  blueness  from  the  wide  skylight  lay  lov- 
ingly, like  a  soft  halo.  Motionless,  passive, 
Elizabeth  sat  there,  thinking  "  long,  long 
thoughts." 

Suddenly  she  raised  her  head  with  the  swift, 
startled  air  of  some  sensitive  wood  creature, 


33°  As  Having  Nothing 

her  dreaming  eyes  dilating  with  an  intent  list- 
ening. What  had  she  heard  ? — Surely  no 
audible  sound  had  broken  the  palpitating  still- 
ness of  the  shadowy  room. 

"  Come ! "  she  called,  in  a  low,  vibrant 
voice. 

Not  so  low  but  that  it  pierced  through 
gloom  and  oaken  panelling  to  the  listening  ears 
without.  For  the  space  of  a  long  heart-throb 
Calvert  Dodge  paused.  Then,  dropping  the 
hand  he  had  raised  to  knock,  with  a  swift, 
noiseless  turn  of  his  wrist  he  opened  the  stu- 
dio door,  disclosing  through  the  dimness  the 
shadowy  figure  by  the  fire. 

As  he  closed  it  again  behind  him  he  shut 
away  the  world.  For  him,  for  him  alone  of  all 
the  world,  remained 

"  the  grace 


On  Love's  uplifted  face, 

And  the  slow,  sweet  joy-dawn  there 

Under  the  dusk  of  her  hair." 


THE    END 


BY  ANNA  FULLER. 

A  LITERARY  COURTSHIP. 

Under  the  Auspices  of  Pike's  Peak.     Printed  on  deckel  edged 

paper,  with  illustrations.     25th  edition.     1 6°,  gilt  top     .         .        $1.25 

' '  A  delightful  little  love  story.     Like  her  other  books  it  is  bright  and 

breezy  ;  its  humor  is  crisp  and  the  general  idea  decidedly  original.     It  is 

just  the  book  to  slip  into  the  pocket  for  a  journey,  when  one  does  not  care 

for  a  novel  or  serious  reading." — Boston  Times. 

A  VENETIAN  JUNE. 

Illustrated  by  George  Sloane.     Printed  on  deckel  edged  paper,     nth  edi- 
tion.    16°,  gilt  top        ........        $1.25 

"A  Venetian  June  bespeaks  its  materials  by  its  title  and  very  full  the 
little  story  is  of  the  picturesqueness,  the  novelty,  the  beauty  of  life  in  the 
city  of  gondolas  and  gondoliers — a  strong  and  able  work  showing  serious- 
ness of  motive  and  strength  of  touch." — Literary  World. 

PRATT  PORTRAITS. 

Sketched  in  a  New  England   Suburb.     I3th  edition.     With  13 

full-page  illustrations  by  George  Sloane.     8°,  gilt  top    .         .         $2.00 

"  The  lines  the  author  cuts  in  her  vignette  are  sharp  and  clear,  but  she 

has,   too,   not  alone   the  knack  of   color,  but   what   is  rarer,  the  gift  of 

humor." — New  York  Times. 

PEAK  AND  PRAIRIE. 

From  a  Colorado  Sketch-book.     3rd  edition.     16°.     With  a  frontis- 
piece by  Louis  Loeb $1.00 

"We  may  say  that  the  jaded  reader  fagged  with  the  strenuous  art  of  the 
passing  hour,  who  chances  to  select  this  volume  to  cheer  the  hours,  will 
throw  up  his  hat  for  sheer  joy  at  having  hit  upon  a  book  in  which  morbid- 
ness and  self-consciousness  are  conspicuous,  by  their  absence." — New  York 
Times, 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON. 


THE   HUDSON  LIBRARY 

Registered  as  Second-Class  Matter. 

16°,  paper,  50  cts.  ;  12°,  cloth,  $1.00  and  $1.25. 

I.  Love  and  Shawl-Straps.     By  ANNETTE  LUCILE  NOBLE. 

"  Decidedly  a  success."  —Boston  Herald, 

II.  Miss  Hurd  :  An  Enigma.    By  ANNA  KATHARINE  GREEN. 

"  Miss  Hurd  fulfils  one's  anticipations  from  start  to  finish.  She  keeps  you  in  a 
state  of  suspense  which  is  positively  fascinating." — Kansas  Times. 

III.  How  Thankful  was  Bewitched.     By  J.  K.  HOSMER. 

"  A  picturesque  romance  charmingly  told.  The  interest  is  both  historical  and 
poetic.  — Independent. 

IV.  A  Woman  of  Impulse.    By  JUSTIN  HUNTLEY  MCCARTHY. 

"  It  is  a  book  well  worth  reading,  charmingly  written,  and  containinga  most  in- 
teresting collection  of  characters  that  are  just  like  life.  .  .  ." — Chicago  Journal. 

V.  Countess  Bettina.    By  CLINTON  Ross. 

"  There  is  a  charm  in  stories  of  this  kind,  free  from  sentimentality,  and  written 
only  to  entertain." — Boston  Times. 

VI      Her  Majesty.    By  ELIZABETH  K.  TOMPKINS. 

"  It  is  written  with  a  charming  style,  with  grace  and  ease,  and  very  pretty  un- 
expected turns  of  expression." — DROCH,  in  A'.  Y.  Life. 

VII.  God  Forsaken.  By  FREDERIC  BRETON. 

"  A  very  clever  book.     .     .     .     The  characters  are  well  and  firmly  drawn." — 

Liverpool  Mercury. 

VIII.  An  Island  Princess.     By  THEODORE  GIFT. 

"  A  charming  and  often  brilliant  tale." — Literary  World. 

IX.  Elizabeth's  Pretenders.     By  HAMILTON  AIDE. 

"  It  is  a  novel  of  character,  of  uncommon  power  and  interest,  wholesome,  humor- 
ous, and  sensible  in  every  chapter." — Bookman. 

X.  At  Tuxter's.     By  G.  B.  BURGIN. 

"  A  very  interesting  story.  The  characters  are  particularly  well  drawn." — 
Boston  Times. 

XI.  At  Cherryfield   Hall.    By  FREDERIC   H.   BALFOUR  (Ross 
George  Deering). 

"  This  is  a  brilliantly-told  tale,  the  constructive  ingenuity  and  literary  excellence 
of  which  entitle  the  author  to  a  place  of  honor  in  the  foremost  rank  of  contempo- 
rary English  romancists." — London  Telegraph. 

XII.  The  Crime  of  the  Century.    By  R.  OTTOLENGUI. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  best-told  stories  of  its  kind  we  have  read,  and  the  reader  will 
not  be  able  to  guess  its  ending  easily." — Boston  Times. 

XIII.  The  Things  that  Matter.    By  FRANCIS  GRIBBLE. 

"  A  very  amusing  novel,  full  of  bright  satire  directed  against  the  New  Woman 
and  similar  objects.  ' — London  Speaker. 

XIV.  The  Heart  of  Life.    By  W.  H.  MALLOCK. 

"  Interesting,  sometimes  tender,  and  uniformly  brilliant.  .  .  .  People  will 
read  Mr.  Mallock's  '  Heart  of  Life,'  for  the  extraordinary  brilliance  with  which 
he  tells  his  story." — Daily  Telegraph. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


THE   HUDSON  LIBRARY 

XV.  The  Broken  Ring.     By  ELIZABETH  K.  TOMPKINS. 

"  A  romance  of  war  and  love  in  royal  life,  pleasantly  written  and  cleverly  com- 
posed  for  melodramatic  effect  in  the  end." — Independent. 

XVI.  The  Strange  Schemes  of  Randolph  Mason.     By  MEL- 
VILLE D.  POST, 

"  This  book  is  very  entertaining  and  original  .  .  .  ingeniously  constructed 
.  .  .  well  worth  reading." — *V.  Y.  Herald. 

XVII.  That  Affair  Next  Door.    By  ANNA  KATHARINE  GREEN. 

"  The  success  of  this  is  something  almost  unprecedented.  Its  startling  inge- 
nuity, sustained  interest,  and  wonderful  plot  shows  that  the  author's  hand  has  not 
lost  its  cunning." — Buffalo  Inquirer. 

XVIII.  In  the  Crucible.    By  GRACE  DENIO  LITCHFIELD. 

"  The  reader  will  find  in  this  book  bright,  breezy  talk,  and  a  more  than  ordinary 
insight  into  the  possibilities  of  human  character.  — Cambridge  Tribune. 

XIX.  Eyes  Like  the  Sea.     By  MAURUS  J6KAI. 

"  A  strikingly  original  and  powerful  story." — London  Speaker. 

XX.  An  Uncrowned  King.     By  S.  C.  GRIER. 

"  Original  and  uncommonly  interesting." — Scotsman. 

XXI.  The  Professor's  Dilemma.     By  A.  L.  NOBLE. 

"  A  bright,  entertaining  novel  .  .  .  fresh,  piquant,  and  well  told." — Boston 
Transcript. 

XXII.  The  Ways  of  Life.     Two  Stories.     By  MRS.  OLIPHANT. 

"  As  a  work  of  art  we  can  praise  the  story  without  reserve." — London  Spectator. 

XXIII.  The  Man  of  the  Family.    By  CHRISTIAN  REID. 

"  A  Southern  story  of  romantic  and  thrilling  interest." — Boston  Time*. 

XXIV.  Margot.     By  SIDNEY  PICKERING. 

"  We  have  nothing  but  praise  for  this  excellently  written  novel." — Pall  Mall 
Gazette. 

XXV.  The  Fall  of  the  Sparrow.     By  M.  C.  BALFOUR. 

"  A  book  to  be  enjoyed  ...  of  unlagging  interest  and  original  in  concep- 
tion."— Boston  Times. 

XXVI.  Elementary  Jane.    By  RICHARD  PRYCE. 

"A  heartfelt,  sincere,  beautiful  love  story,  told  with  infinite  humor." — Chicago 
Times-Herald. 

XXVII.  The  Man  of  Last  Resort.     By  MELVILLE  D.  POST. 

"  The  author  makes  a  strong  plea  for  moral  responsibility  in  his  work,  and  his 
vivid  style  and  undeniable  earnestness  must  carry  great  weight  with  all  thinking 
readers.  It  is  a  notable  book." — Boston  Times. 

XXVIII.  The  Confession  of  Stephen  Whapshare.    By  EMMA 

BROOKE. 

"  Its  psychology  is  delicate  and  acute ;  the  tragedy  of  it  poignant  and  sustained  • 
all  the  characters  are  clearly  conceived  and  drawn  with  firmness  and  precision.' 
— London  Chronicle. 

XXIX.  Lost  Man's  Lane.    By  ANNA  KATHARINE  GREEN. 

XXX.  Wheat  in  the  Ear.    By  ALIEN. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON. 


Gbree  Iflotable  Books 


The  Red  Republic.  A  Romance  of  the  Commune.  By  ROBERT 
W.  CHAMBERS,  author  of  "  The  King  in  Yellow,"  etc.  Second 
edition.  Large  12° $1.25 

"  With  all  its  rush  and  excitement  there  is  a  solid  basis  of  painstaking  and 
thoughtfulness  in  '  The  Red  Republic.'  Mr.  Chambers  is  wholly  free  from  self- 
consciousness  ;  indeed  his  gifts  seem  to  be  little  short  of  genius.  Wonderfully 
vivid  and  graphic." — N.  Y.  Press. 

"  Mr.  Chambers  shows  great  familiarity  with  the  many  dreadful  days  of  1871, 
and  Mr.  Thiers' policy  is  critically  examined.  'The  Red  Republic'  abounds  in 
action.''—^.  Y.  Times. 

" '  The  Red  Republic '  has  the  healthly  ring  of  a  young  man's  book.  Mr. 
Chambers  can  do  what  few  men  can  do,  he  can  tell  a  story." — ./V.  Y.  Journal. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  one  need  hesitate  to  call  '  The  Red  Republic '  the  best 
American  novel  of  the  year." — VANCK  THOMPSON  in  N.  Y.  Morning-  Advertiser. 

"  The  book  will  commend  itself  not  only  for  its  strength  and  vividness,  but  for 
Imagination  and  fancy.  .  .  .  Glow  with  gentle  beauty  and  romance,  putting 
in  striking  contrast  the  barbarity  of  war." — DROCH  in  N.  Y.  Life, 

A  King  and  a  Few  Dukes.  A  Romance.  By  ROBERT  W. 
CHAMBERS,  author  of  "The  Red  Republic."  Large  12°  $i  25 

"  No  superior  fiction  has  appeared  in  months It  is  a  charming  love 

story,  attractively  told  in  a  way  that  is  essentially  Mr.  Chambers'  own." — N,  Y. 
Times. 


"  This  latest  of  Mr.  Chambers'  stories  is  written  in  a  very  charming  manner, 
and  with  all  the  grace  and  finish  that  have  made  the  writings  of  the  author  so 
popular  during  the  past." — Albany  Union. 

The  Maker  of  Moons.    By  ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS,   author  of 
"  A  King  and  a  Few  Dukes."    Large  12°,  gilt  top        .    $i  50 

"  Mr.  Chambers  writes  with  the  irresistible  fluent  vigor  that  characterizes  the 
born  story-teller.  .  .  .  His  stories  are  in  great  part  as  improbable_  as  the 
famous  '  She  '  by  Rider  Haggard,  but  the  reader  having  once  begun  it  is  impossi- 


ad  pathos  which  makes  them  distinctively  An 
trary  world. 

Q.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  New  York  and  London 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILI1 


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